


To Each, His Own

by china_shop



Series: To Each, His Own [2]
Category: Canadian Actor RPF, Fandom RPF, due South
Genre: Angst, Crack, Fic, Llamas, Love Triangle, M/M, Mary Sue, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-27
Updated: 2008-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:09:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/132681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The llama is a Lateral Love-triangle Adjustment Module Animatronic," I explain. "She should be able to simplify matters."<br/>Fraser exchanges a glance with Dief, and then gets to his feet. "How?"<br/>"Um, I'm not entirely sure," I tell him. "She wasn't very clear on the specifics. At least, she may have been, but I'm not very fluent in camelid."</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Each, His Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mergatrude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mergatrude/gifts).



> In November, I started a story on the cruiseliner ([archived here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/132677?view_full_work=true)) but if you don't want to delve back, simply check out the previouslies below.
> 
> **Previously on the cruiseliner...**
> 
> Fraser explains. "The cruiseliner on which we're all traveling has recently strayed into New Zealand's coastal waters. Into New Zealand territory, that is. And as you may be aware, civil unions are now legal between couples of the same sex and, well, to be frank, Ray has agreed to undertake such a ceremony with me."
> 
> Hugh puts his cup down very carefully. "You want us to be your best men?"
> 
> "Sure," says Callum, and taps his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. "Why not?"
> 
> I glance at you. "We have to be there, if only to make sure it all runs smoothly." I lean back in my chair.
> 
> You frown. "How're we going to get ourselves invited?"
> 
> CUT TO: We sneak up the metal stairs past the Personnel Only sign to the bridge, and hide in a convenient cupboard with some life jackets and a dozen shiny silver whistles on lanyards. There's a small window with safety glass so we can see what's going on.
> 
> CUT TO: Everyone's dressed up, and Ray's and Callum's hair are both carefully spiked. Callum and Hugh have their matching bracelets and Headstones rings on for the occasion.
> 
> The Captain starts speaking, and you grab my arm really hard and I completely understand. Historic occasion! EEEEEEEEE! But he's interrupted by hurried footsteps outside, running up the stairs, coming closer. "Wait!" says a familiar voice. "You want to tell me what this is all about, Benny?"
> 
>  
> 
> **And now...**

## Part 1

Fraser stood by the cabin door, his stomach in knots, and watched Ray pace.

"So you don't love me," said Ray at last, crossing his arms tightly and turning to Fraser. "That's it, isn't it? I was just a substitute Ray until the real deal turned up."

"Please don't be ridiculous." Fraser tried to move towards him, but Ray's agitation was a barrier between them. Fraser reached out with words instead. "You know I love you. The presence or absence of Ray Vecchio has no bearing whatsoever on how I feel about you."

Ray stopped and tilted his chin up. "If that's true, how come we're not civilly unioned by now? You called it off, Fraser. That means something." He swallowed hard and met Fraser's gaze. "And what it means is that I am out of here."

The knots in Fraser's stomach writhed like snakes. He stepped forward and put his hand on Ray's arm — it felt like an imposition. Less than an hour ago, Ray had been his to touch and tease and love, and now they were barely able to talk to one another. "Ray. Please." Fraser willed him to understand. "I couldn't possibly continue with the ceremony with Ray just arrived — you must see that. He's my best friend. I haven't seen him in years."

Ray twisted his arm to take Fraser's hand in his, but his words were harsh. "So instead you jilted me at the altar."

"I'm still here." The handclasp was steadying, reassuring. Fraser squeezed Ray's fingers.

Ray didn't move any closer though. "I can't stick around and watch you choose between us," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry, I wish I could be here for you for this, but I — I can't. I can't do that." He looked down, perhaps at Fraser's shoulder. "The Captain said I can have my old cabin back."

Desperation welled up and Fraser struggled to control himself. "It's not about choosing."

Ray shook his head and pulled his hand away from Fraser's tight grip. "Don't play dumb, Fraser. I know you guys got history, and I don't think either me or Vecchio is game to share. Not this merry-go-round." He went to the closet and got his suitcase, and laid it on the bed. "You have got to decide who you want to be with."

Fraser pressed his lips together, tight, unable to speak.

Ray took a deep breath and came over to him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "And I will wait, Fraser. I will." He brushed his thumb along Fraser's jaw, a whisper of their old connection. "But I can't stay here to see it." He gave his head a bitter, decisive shake and went back to the bed, started packing. "You let me know when you figure it out."

Fraser followed him and took him by the shoulder, forcing him to face what he was doing. "I love _you_."

"I know that!" Ray's jaw clenched, briefly, and then he was kissing Fraser, burying his hands in Fraser's hair, and it was like being home. Fraser clung to him. But the kiss was salty with goodbyes. Ray pulled away and pressed his temple to the side of Fraser's head, holding him close. "Your brain is a strange mysterious place, Benton Fraser. I ain't got no idea what goes on in there. Vecchio shows up and you stop the wedding—"

"Technically it wasn't a wedding," Fraser pointed out, before he could think better of it.

And then it was as though all the fight leached out of Ray. "Civil unity. Whatever. It was a wedding to me." He stared Fraser in the eye, letting his hurt show. "And you stopped it 'cause some bald guy called you Benny." He tightened his hold on Fraser's head, and then dropped his hands and stepped back. "You got some housekeeping to do in there. Let me know what you find under the sofa cushions."

Fraser felt a sharp pain under his ribs. "I thought — I thought you'd be more persistent," he said, dumbly, "if it ever came to this."

Ray scooped an armful of underwear out of his drawer. "You thought I'd fight for you? You want me to duke it out with Vecchio?" He dumped the boxers and briefs in his suitcase and went to the closet. "Trust me, I would if I thought it'd help. But I can't fight what's inside you. I can't make you feel how I want you to — like I'm the only Ray in the room. That's something you have to work out for yourself."

"Don't leave me." Fraser felt as if the words were torn from deep inside him.

Ray tensed, his hands tightening on the edges of his suitcase, his knuckles whitening. He didn't look at Fraser. "You know I have to. You know I'm right." He got his boots and his sandals from the floor of the closet, slung them on top of his t-shirts and shorts, and fastened his suitcase. Then he put it by the door, collected his jacket from the chair in the corner and came over to Fraser. "I'm not getting off this boat. I'll still—" He tugged Fraser close and kissed him hard. "Oh jesus, I—"

His jacket dropped to the floor with a rustle, and Fraser wrapped around him, holding on as tight as he could. The world was collapsing around him, and this embrace was the only thing that made any sense. Ray insinuated his hand under the hem of Fraser's shirt, and smoothed across his back, leaving trails of hunger and desperation, and Fraser thought of nothing but claiming him. He fisted his hand in Ray's hair and slid his tongue into Ray's mouth, and then kissed his way down the line of Ray's neck.

"This doesn't change anything," Ray warned him, reaching for the button of Fraser's pants.

Fraser pressed against him, hip to hip, needing him. "I know."

* * *

Ray Vecchio was in the bar talking to Mark, with Dief on the floor beside him begging for pretzels in a demeaning display for a wolf.

"Benny!" Ray sprang to his feet and flung his arms around Fraser. "Sorry, sorry, crappy timing. I meant to be here a week ago. I came as soon as I heard where you were, but I got held up by a rough patch of narrative causality." He stood back, still clasping Fraser's shoulders, and studied him. "Everything okay?"

Fraser attempted a smile, knowing even as he did that it was a poor attempt. "I'm glad you're here, Ray."

"Yeah, I missed you too," Vecchio told him, and there should have been an answering smile with that, perhaps, but Ray just looked concerned. He draped his arm around Fraser's shoulders, a gesture Fraser found both comforting and confusing, and drew him down to sit next to him in the booth.

Mark drained his beer glass and got to his feet. "I'll leave you two to catch up."

He hesitated a moment, but neither of them invited him to stay.

Once he'd gone they had the corner of the bar to themselves. Ray took his arm back and sat against the corner of the booth, half-facing Fraser.

"You look like shit," he said, without preamble.

Fraser took a pretzel from the bowl and broke it into smooth, uncomplicated segments. "Ray just moved out." He darted a glance at Ray, saw indignation warring with relief, and then turned back to the dismembered pretzel. He scraped the salt off with his thumbnail. Ray's nearness was affecting him, as much as it ever had. "He said I had to choose."

Ray nodded. "Well, that's something. He's smarter than he looks."

"Ray." Fraser bit his lip, feeling young again, torn by the complexities of dual loyalties and loves.

"You know what I mean." Ray stole a short length of pretzel and ate it. "And if I've got a chance with you, I'm not leaving quietly. Not this time."

Fraser managed a real smile at that. "Since when have you done anything quietly?"

"Exactly." His warm agreement reminded Fraser not only of earlier startling wardrobe choices on Ray's part, but also of their extremely vocal lovemaking. "I know it might not seem like it, what with my little Florida escapade—" Ray waved that aside, his strong fingers dismissing history as easily as swatting at a fly. "— but you're the one for me. I thought I was coming here to wish you well, maybe play the best man at your wedding."

Fraser opened his mouth to correct the terminology, then closed it again.

"But I was delusional. When I saw you again, it was like a slam dunk to the head. Like I'd been trying to find the big picture of my life all these years without the most important piece of the puzzle." Ray ducked his head. "If you don't want what I'm offering, that's okay. I've been doing all right up till now. But I have to take a shot, Benny. And I need your friendship. No one knows me like you do."

Fraser swallowed with difficulty. "Likewise, as I'm sure you're aware."

Ray reached out and covered Fraser's hand with his own, and when Fraser looked down at them together, his own skin pale by comparison, time seemed to contract until it was 1995 again. His heart thudded.

"I've always loved you," he heard himself say, and then snatched his hand away. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I don't want to mislead you. It's not—"

"It's not that simple, huh?" Ray's voice was warm with understanding. "It never is, trust me. Hey, no one said you had to decide today. Just give me one thing."

Fraser nodded, and raised his gaze to meet Ray's. "What's that, Ray?"

"A kiss," said Ray, softly. "Remind me what I've been missing."

Fraser flushed, torn between disloyalty to Ray Kowalski and desire. Ray must have seen it on his face.

"Hey, he moved out, right? He said you had to choose?" Ray put his hand on Fraser's upper arm. "Well, I'm saying when you do, it oughta be an informed decision."

Fraser nodded slowly, despite himself, then looked toward the door, afraid Ray Kowalski would suddenly appear, would see them. "Not here."

They went to Ray's cabin. It was further away than Fraser's, but it seemed disrespectful to even consider making such a move in the room Fraser had shared with Ray Kowalski. Ray shut the door behind them, and came to stand in front of him, pushed his bangs off his forehead. "You've grown your hair."

Fraser closed his eyes, feeling the love radiating between them. It hurt to be here, but it felt right, too. He belonged with both of them, God help him.

Ray curved his hand around Fraser's neck. "I wish I could make this easier on you."

"No, you don't," said Fraser thickly, and leaned in to press his mouth to the generous curve of Ray's lips. He tasted familiar, responded eagerly, and Fraser's aching, tired heart eased in his embrace.

Ray broke away and took a shuddering breath. "Jesus Christ, Benny, you—" He ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. "You don't want this to go any further, we have to stop _now_."

Fraser pressed his lips together, his heart pounding like thunder, guilt tearing him apart at the seams. "Hold me," he said, hoarsely. "Please, Ray."

* * *

> **mergatrude:** You're tearing me apart here, dammit. *cries buckets* *blames hormones*  
>  **me:** *is repentant*  
>  **mergatrude:** No, you're not. I know you.  
>  **me:** *hides* Okay. Not very. If it helps, we're going to try to fix it now. *employs llama*  
>  **mergatrude:** Thank god for the llama. I'm feeling firmly on Kowalski's side, here. Just so you know.  
>  **me:** Not even a tiny bit sorry for Fraser?  
>  **mergatrude:** Nope. Not yet, anyway.  
>  **me:** Damn! Then I have failed.  
>  **mergatrude:** Also, I feel sorry Mark!  
>  **me:** *snicker* Mark/Hugh = fuckbuddies  
>  **mergatrude:** \o/  
>  **me:** Hugh/Callum = open relationship  
>  **mergatrude:** Mark/Hugh/Callum?? *puppy eyes*  
>  **me:** OOOOOOOH! *wants* *plots to get llama off cruiseliner*  
>  **mergatrude:** *is distracted from my woe*  
>  **me:** STOP DISTRACTING ME! I'm supposed to be fixing them!
> 
> ...
> 
> **me:** Q. It appears to have jumped into present tense. What's with that?  
>  **mergatrude:** I don't know. I don't think it's safe to let me near Fraser at the moment.

 

* * *

That evening we find Fraser alone in his cabin, talking to Dief. "Humans don't simply expand their packs like that," he's trying to explain.

Dief twitches his ears skeptically.

"Ray and Ray barely know each other," Fraser adds. He looks tired and sad.

The door is slightly ajar, letting in a melancholy breeze from the sea. You knock and then shove me inside and stay out on the deck with Albuquerque. You're cranky with Fraser, but prepared to help — or, at least, make me help — if it'll help Ray Kowalski.

"Uh, hi," I say, tentatively. "Fraser?"

He looks up. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, we might be able to help you." I lean outside and beckon to Albuquerque. "We've been talking to the llama, and we think we've come up with a solution."

"The llama?" Fraser eyes Albuquerque warily through the doorway. I think she's tried to eat his hat one too many times.

"The Lateral Love-triangle Adjustment Module Animatronic," I explain (wondering why my spell checker wants to change "animatronic" to "patronise", and then deciding that makes a certain amount of sense, all things considered). "She should be able to simplify matters."

Fraser exchanges a glance with Dief, and then gets to his feet. "How?"

"Um, I'm not entirely sure," I tell him. "She wasn't very clear on the specifics. At least, she may have been, but I'm not very fluent in camelid."

"Perhaps she'll help you come to your senses," you say muffledly from outside.

"Ignore her," I murmur and pat his arm. "It's an impossible situation. You can't choose between the Rays — I completely understand. In fact, I've been similarly afflicted over the last year or so, but uh, you probably don't want to hear about that right now."

"Just let her do her thing," you say from outside. I guess you're pretty sure the LLAMA's on Kowalski's side. That would make sense, I guess, seeing as she's known him the longest. I feel sad at the prospect of losing Ray Vecchio again so soon, though. He just got here! But maybe it's for the best. Anyway, we can't have Fraser moping in his cabin like a two-hundred-year-old vampire with stupid hair.

"Maybe she'll make the Rays like each other and then you could—" I look at Dief. "—uh, expand your pack?"

Fraser looks uncomfortable. "It would be ethically dubious to artificially alter their affections." I can tell he's tempted, though.

"Oh, she won't do anything ethically dubious," I assure him. "Well, nothing with dubious consent, anyway. I've programmed her _very_ carefully."

"You programmed her but you don't know what she does?" Fraser rubs his eyebrow in confusion.

I pat his arm again. At least the puzzlement is distracting him from his misery. "It's a narrative thing," I explain. "You know. Cruiseliner. Weirdness. Stuff."

He shakes his head, but I don't think he's disagreeing, exactly, so much as trying to make some kind of sense of what I'm saying.

"I know it will help," I tell him urgently. "Maybe it'll help you figure out what you want. Or maybe it'll alter your affections for one of the Rays — make them purely platonic. And if you're consenting, then that can't be unethical, right?"

"I doubt very much that Ray would agree," says Fraser, and I have no idea which Ray he's referring to.

"We just want you all to be happy," I insist. "Okay, how about this: we'll give you a two-day money-back guarantee free trial."

"It was free anyway," you protest from outside.

"I know. But we can put her on a temporary setting," I call over my shoulder. "Then if it doesn't work out, no harm, no foul."

Albuquerque rolls her eyes at the sports cliché. I apologise.

"And if it's all good, we can reinforce it with a permanence beam," I conclude triumphantly.

"You're sure it won't affect either Ray?" says Fraser, clearly unable to resist the prospect of emotional relief.

"Uh, yeah," I say, scratching my neck. "Sure. Why not?"

Dief sits up and gives me a very hard stare. I look out the window and resist the temptation to whistle innocently.

We stand in a weird, awkward tableau while Fraser does some mental arithmetic.

"All right," he says finally. It sounds like surrender rather than a joyous acceptance, but I'll take what I can get. I _know_ this is going to work.

"Thank god," you say from behind me. "If you hadn't agreed, I'd have had to whack you over the head with this paddle and leave you in a heap on Ray Kowalski's doorstep."

I cross my fingers you won't be too mad if Albuquerque decides Fraser/Vecchio are OTP. Not that Albuquerque will technically decide anything, of course. She'll just enable Fraser's psyche to assert its deepest wish.

"Okay," I say, hastily. "Yay!" I pinch one of Albuquerque's ears and whisper into it, "He said yes. Do your thing. Uh, your temporary thing, that is. Got that?"

She hums, and a whirring noise builds slowly, deep inside her, as though she's digesting a hundred baked lemon cheesecakes. Her eyes begin to whirl like optical illusions. I cover my face so I don't throw up, and when I peek between my fingers, Fraser and Albuquerque are staring at each other, gazes locked like an industrial-strength strongbox. She gurgles, and you make a disturbed kind of whimpering noise, and something chugs and clanks, and then she locks and loads, just like Hugh, and spits directly at Fraser, catching him full in the face.

I let my hands drop in despair. "That's it? That's all you've got? _Saliva?!_ "

She gives me a scathing glance, turns on her heels and trots sedately out of the cabin. I look at Fraser apologetically.

But wait. The LLAMA spit is glowing, and it seems to be hovering in the air in front of his face. It didn't actually hit him after all. It expands like a bubble-gum bubble, shimmering gooily, and I take a nervous step back. "I'm sure it's harmless."

Fraser is wide-eyed, but he seems transfixed as the bubble of spit gets bigger and bigger, and finally stretches to engulf him.

"Wait!" I say, having my second thoughts much too late.

There's a flash of sheer white light, so bright I can see the veins in my eyeballs, and a burning smell, like gunpowder or burned marzipan, and the bubble gets even bigger.

I stumble back towards the door.

The bubble pops.

"Oh my god," I say. "Oh my god."

"What?" You crane your head through the doorway, and then finally come in, pushing me forward. "Oh my god."

There are two Frasers.

"Are they the same?" I ask. It's a dumb question. They're wearing different clothes: one is in the red uniform, the other in a henley with suspenders and the trousers from the brown uniform. Also, red!uniform!Fraser has longer hair, and a slightly rounder jaw.

"I think that one's from late in season one," you say, pointing at henley!Fraser.

"Excuse me?" says henley!Fraser. He turns and catches sight of red!uniform!Fraser for the first time. "Dear Lord," he says, blankly.

Red!uniform!Fraser echoes him. "Dear Lord."

"Wait right there," I tell them both, holding up my hands to forestall any sudden movements or decisions or rapid cellular breakdowns or anything. I bundle you outside. "Now _that_ I was not expecting," I say.

"I suppose it's one solution," you tell me, sounding disapproving. "I don't know that it's the best one. Frankly, I think you've been watching far too much _Farscape_."

I edge over to the porthole and look through. Fraser and Fraser are regarding each other with suspicion. Henley!Fraser appears to be trying to justify his existence by citing certain tenuously relevant case law. Red!uniform!Fraser rubs his eyebrow and starts, politely but firmly, to argue with him.

"You may be right," I admit, biting my lip. And then I try to look on the bright side. "At least this way he doesn't have to choose?"

You snort, and we watch them slowly infuriate each other, while we try to figure out what to do. Carried on the soft night air are the distant but unmistakable sounds of Callum and Hugh and Mark Smithbauer having sex.

 

## Part 2

"Dief's awfully quiet." We've been standing outside Fraser's (or perhaps I should say the Frasers') cabin for longer than we should've, trying to figure this out, when you notice the absence of barking.

"Good point." I peer in the porthole again, but it's an awkward angle. I can only see the two Frasers. They seem to be trying to out-Inuit-story each other. "We'd better go in."

I take a deep breath and knock on the door, then let myself in. "How are you?"

"We're both Fraser," says henley!Fraser, and rubs his eyebrow. Original style Fraser kicking it old school.

Red!uniform!Fraser has a pained expression. "Actually, I have a splitting headache," he admits.

"Literally," you mutter, and rummage in your purse for paracetamol, which you offer him and he accepts with thanks.

Dief's passed out on the floor. I double-take when I realise it. "Uh," I elbow you in the ribs, "I think we made Dief faint. I didn't know wolves did that."

Both Frasers start to explain to me in stereo about wolf physiology, and I point out this is the cruiseliner and pretty much anything can happen, witness _duplicated Frasers_. Meanwhile you bend down and rub Dief's head until he wakes up. He eyes both Frasers, and then lies down between them and looks unsure of himself. Maybe we should've doubled him, too.

"Okay," I say to the Frasers, "so we're sorted, right? You love Ray Vecchio," I tell henley!Fraser, and then point at red!uniform!Fraser, "and you love Ray Kowalski. Everyone lives happily ever after."

"I suppose so," says red!uniform!Fraser, frowning. I hope that's just because of the headache.

But you raise your eyebrows at him. "What's wrong?"

"Who's Ray Kowalski?" asks henley!Fraser.

"That's not important," I tell him, "and nothing's wrong. Stop fussing." I wave my hands to dispel a deep uncomfortable sinking feeling. "Go forth, be fruitful, multiply!"

"Wait," you say, exasperatedly, "you want mpreg now?"

"No, no, no! It's a metaphor." I smile at them hopefully. "I mean, go, be happy! Live HEAIACS1!"

"A metaphor for what?" henley!Fraser asks red!uniform!Fraser as an aside.

"Intercourse, I believe," Fraser replies.

"Ah."

I try to feel good about the fact that their joint bafflement at me has overcome their frustration with each other. They both still seem a bit stunned by the whole deal, but we give them directions, and they walk down the deck together. Henley!Fraser takes the passageway towards Ray Vecchio's cabin, and red!uniform!Fraser climbs the narrow stairs to the B Deck, where Ray Kowalski's quarters are situated.

"It will be okay, won't it?" I ask you, worriedly.

"I hope so." Your tone isn't particularly reassuring. I guess you're still mad at Fraser — one or both of them.

"It was the right thing to do," I tell myself. "Now each Ray has his own Fraser. No more heartache."

You snort and go off to find Albuquerque, and I stand leaning on the railing, wondering if Callum and Hugh and Mark will go all night. *koff* Dief comes over and noses my hand, and I sink down beside him and give him a hug. "It will be all right," I tell him firmly.

He sneezes in my face.

**Explanatory footnote:**  
1 Happily Ever After In A Canadian Shack.

* * *

Fraser parted from his younger self at the passageway to Ray Vecchio's cabin, and climbed the stairs to the B Deck. It was all very peculiar and his head ached like billyo. Other than that, though, he didn't feel any different, and he wasn't sure how the presence of another self was supposed to resolve anything. Except that presumably if Ray Vecchio were already involved with him, he'd no longer be free to pursue a relationship with him.

At least the attention from those strange Antipodean women with the llama had shamed him into realizing the extent of his bad behavior (and how widely known it had become). He'd been caught up in shock and the heat of the moment when he'd agreed to kiss Ray Vecchio, and lustful anticipation had propelled him the rest of the way, but that was no excuse. He was still, as far as he was aware, betrothed to Ray Kowalski and however confused his heart was, he should not have done it. He must apologise to Ray at once and beg his forgiveness.

He stopped by a lifeboat and breathed deeply of the warm night air for a few minutes, summoning his resolve. This wouldn't be easy. Ray might very well be angry and hurt, and that would be all the worse for being wholly justified. On top of that, Fraser wasn't sure he could honestly say he'd made his choice. It was more as though the choice had been thrust upon him. It was unlikely Ray would be very impressed by that.

Perhaps if he brought a gift. There was nowhere to buy flowers at this time of night, and the gift shop was closed, but there was an abandoned shuffleboard cue propped against a bench seat, and needs must. The blunting of his knife was a small price to pay. Fraser sat with it, weighed it carefully in his hands, and then took his knife from his boot and quickly whittled it into a totem, emblematic of his time with Ray: there was a rubber duck, a pair of glasses, a crypt, an empty gun, a chess piece, a dead man, a pirate, a submarine, a baseball, a patrol bike, the GTO, a pack of cards, a glass of despondency, a skeleton, a microphone, a coffin, a church, an airplane and a campfire. There. It was incomplete — not to mention, entirely possible that Ray remembered different episodes from their time together than those that had stuck in Fraser's memory — but it would have to do.

He dusted the wood shavings from his trousers, re-sheathed his dulled knife, and took the totem to Ray's cabin.

"What?" Ray answered the door in shorts and a hooded sweatshirt. His feet were bare, and his face hollow-cheeked and rough with stubble. It had only been a few hours, but he looked haggard and miserable. His expression softened when he saw it was Fraser. "What is it?"

"I need to talk to you," Fraser said awkwardly. "May I come in?"

Ray stood aside to let him in. The cabin was bare, Ray's suitcase open on the floor but not unpacked, and the bedclothes were rumpled as though Ray had been curled up on it, perhaps sleeping.

"Have a seat." Ray waved him to the chair, and Fraser obediently sat down. Then he realized he was still holding the carving and stood up again.

"I brought you this. As a token of my—" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"You're sorry." Ray shook his head a little, and took the carving. "What is it?"

"A totem of sorts." Fraser felt facts and information gathering in his frontal lobe, eager to spill out and impart all kinds of useless knowledge. He held his tongue and sat down again.

"A token totem," said Ray, and ran his thumb over the images.

Fraser resisted explaining their significance. Ray would understand. And indeed, he raised his eyes and looked at Fraser kindly, a spark of hope.

"Okay, cough it up. Whatever you came to say." He perched on the corner of the bed, facing Fraser, the totem propped on the ground between his feet and held with both hands — undeniably phallic.

Fraser averted his gaze and tried to decide how to begin. He must be honest, he knew. Ray deserved to know the truth. "You were right," he started, and then flicked a look at Ray to gauge his reaction. "You were right that my affections are — were divided. I didn't mean to mislead you. I do love you, and in Ray's absence it was easy to forget that I loved him too."

Ray's jaw tightened, but other than that, he didn't move, didn't respond at all.

"I— after this afternoon, I went to find him. I thought—" Fraser leaned his elbows on his knees and hunched forward. "I really did think I was seeking him out as a friend. You must believe that. I thought my romance with him had run its course, that it was all in the past." Fraser hesitated, afraid to hurt Ray. Afraid that what he said next would damage their relationship irrevocably. He looked up. "I kissed him. We—" He swallowed. "Did other things."

Ray's grip on the totem tightened, his lips were pressed together. He didn't say anything. It was as if he couldn't.

"I wasn't thinking," said Fraser, past the lump in his throat. "I'm — more sorry than I can express."

Ray took a slow breath. In a voice like slow tires over gravel, he asked, "Is it over?"

Fraser tried to turn the question around in his mind, to find the answer, but it was too slippery. " Is what over?"

Ray closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, a familiar gesture he often did in jest, begging patience from Heaven. There was no humor in it now. Fraser had ruined everything.

"You and me," said Ray. He lay the totem on the floor beside the bed and sat up again, raised his chin as though that small proud tilt could cover the pain written in every line of his taut body. "Are we done?"

Fraser blinked away the stinging in his eyes. "I hope not. Ray, I sincerely — hope not." He wished he could reach out and offer comfort. But Ray had to allow it, first. Ray had to forgive him before they could be close again. And before that could happen, he had to explain everything. "There's more."

"Okay." Ray laced his fingers together and watched Fraser, waiting. Braced for another blow.

"Those strange women we often see by the pool. The ones with the llama. They said they could help, and I — didn't know what to do. So I let them. And the llama spat at me and then—" Fraser licked his lip. "And then there were two of me."

"Two." Ray squinted in confusion. "Two of who?"

"Of me. There was me, and there was another me. Younger." Fraser knew he wasn't explaining this very clearly. English was a most deficient language, sometimes. "Standing side by side, and arguing, and the women said that we could live happily ever after with our respective Rays, so—"

Ray rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. "So you didn't choose."

" _I_ did, Ray. I still — I'm _me_." Fraser fumbled for words. "I didn't have to take their instructions. I could have—"

"What? Swapped assignments?" Ray's anger flared up and then was gone again. "Jesus. This boat is cracked. So you're here. You want—" He looked straight at Fraser. "You want to be here? With me?"

"Yes." Fraser didn't let himself hesitate. His heart was torn, it beat for both Rays, but the decision was made now. He was still choosing for himself. This was why humans had free will in the first place, after all. He would be loyal. He would stick with his Ray, to whom he'd committed himself. In time, no doubt he'd be happy again.

* * *

> **mergatrude:** See, you let Fraser off the choosing hook. I'm not sure how I feel about that, or what the repercussions will be. I can totally understand Ray not being happy about it, if that's the way he blows. Won't both Rays feel a bit like they've been cheated? My brain is breaking!  
>  **me:** Yes. Both Rays are cheated (though Vecchio less so) and Fraser is sort of off the hook, but sort of not.  
>  **mergatrude:** *eats an extra large helping of cheesecake*  
>  **me:** Were you hoping for a nice neat simple answer?  
>  **mergatrude:** Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  
>  **me:** Isn't this what you want, though? Loyalty? Commitment? Honesty? Not cheating anymore ever? You frowned at him when he followed his (conflicted) heart.  
>  **mergatrude:** I don't knooooow! I want the cruiseliner to be a happy place! *criez* Can we have aliens again? They were simpler to deal with.  
>  **me:** When Fraser says he wants to be with Ray, he does mean it. It's just he wants to be with Ray, too.  
>  **mergatrude:** It feels like something's wrong with the fabric of the universe - it's all rough and scratchy.  
>  **me:** It oughta be made of llama wool.

 

## Part 3

Fraser parted from his older and somewhat irritating self at the passageway to Ray Vecchio's cabin, and walked down the narrow hallway, checking the numbers until he found the correct room. He knocked and tried the handle (which was locked), and started speaking as soon as Ray answered the door. "Something very peculiar is going on, Ray, and there have been a number of, ah, not exactly allegations, but certainly untoward _suggestions_ from strange women that I, well, I can't really explain. Not to mention the other me, the llama or the fact that we appear to be on some kind of cruise ship. I don't suppose you know anything about—"

"Benny?" Ray looked stunned, not to mention approximately ten years older than when Fraser had last seen him. "What happened to you? Are you—?" He grabbed Fraser's sleeve and dragged him inside, shutting the door after him.

"I think I'm dreaming, Ray," Fraser said, looking around the cabin curiously. It was neat and modern, and there was a picture of the Vecchio family propped on the nightstand. "Or perhaps it's some kind of vision." He caught Ray by the shoulders and studied him. It _was_ Ray, no doubt about it, but there were lines and shadows on his face that didn't belong there. "Are our corporeal bodies in a sweat lodge?"

Ray frowned back. "Did someone hit you on the head? Do you have amnesia again?"

"I don't know." Fraser tried to remember what he'd had for breakfast, but it was as elusive as the name of the French chanteuse who'd sung _Rien de Rien_. "Maybe."

Ray reached up and touched his hair. It was an oddly intimate gesture, and Fraser suppressed a shiver.

"How old are you?" Ray asked.

Fraser pursed his lips and frowned. "What year is it?"

"2008," said Ray.

"Then I'm—" He tilted his head. "I suppose I must be 47." He blinked and looked at his hand on Ray's shoulder, the fingers smooth and familiar. "That can't possibly be correct. Ray, what's going on?"

"You'd better sit down." Ray waved him to the bed. "It's a long story, and I only know one small part of it." He went to a decanter in the corner and poured himself a scotch, then silently offered one to Fraser and nodded, unsurprised, when Fraser shook his head. "Okay," said Ray. "Here's what I know. About three weeks ago — it's February, by the way, but I got no answer for why the weather's so goddamned warm. I got a closet full of sweaters and mittens, and my best cashmere scarf with me. Anyway, I got a call—"

"We're in the southern hemisphere," Fraser told him. "It's summer."

"Really? Of course it is. Man, it's been a lifetime since sixth grade geography." Ray rubbed his face, and took a mouthful of scotch. He sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Fraser. Fraser's eyebrow suddenly itched, but he resisted the urge to scratch it. Ray kicked his expensive leather shoes off and patted Fraser's knee. "Sorry, it was a long flight. Anyway, where was I?"

"You received a phone call."

"Right, right. Out of the blue. Turnbull calls to say you're getting hitched to Kowalski. Now, being as I still think of us as best friends, you know, after everything we've been through, I'm kind of hurt that you told Turnbull about your impending nuptials and not me, but Turnbull explains after he's done gushing about how good it is to hear my voice after all this time, he says you _didn't_ tell him."

Fraser blinked. "I didn't?"

"No." Ray smiled lopsidedly at him. "Turns out Turnbull's seeing a psychic. A guy called Francis Doyle. Anyway, he dishes me the dirt and I figure I'll drop in, make a splash and watch you tie the knot. Maybe dance with the bridesmaid and eat some cake." He hangs his head. "Thought you'd be pleased to see me."

"But I wasn't," Fraser guessed, given Ray's wry expression.

"Well, _pleased_ , maybe, but it shocked the hell out of you, too. I don't know, maybe you _had_ forgotten about me. It's been a long time, Benny, and there was the Florida—" Ray waves his hand dismissively. "—thing. We'd both moved on. But still, I didn't know you'd— Or that I'd want you to."

"You didn't know I'd what?" Fraser watched him carefully. It suddenly occurred to him that if he were married — he surreptitiously rubbed his thumb across the fourth finger of his left hand. There was no ring. Of course, for centuries rings were only worn by brides; perhaps they were following tradition.

Ray stared into his glass. "You stopped the wedding. I showed up, and things got a little crazy, and—" Ray looked at him, a flash of nervousness on his face. "Is any of this ringing any bells?"

"Not wedding chimes, not even wind chimes," Fraser told him with a small smile.

"So Kowalski was pissed and told you you had to choose, and then— then I don't know what the hell happened to you. You're definitely not the Fraser I was with this afternoon." Ray took another sip of his drink.

Fraser stood up and got himself a bottle of water from the minibar, partly stalling for time. "I have to choose," he said, and looked at Ray, demanding a straight answer. "Choose what?"

A flush stained Ray's cheek. "You really don't remember, huh?" he said, in a low voice. He drained his glass and put it on the nightstand next to the photo, and then came over to Fraser. His breath was pungent with scotch and there was tension across his shoulders. "Well, you're still Fraser in there, whatever's happened to you. It's not like you're gonna—" He took a deep breath and let it out, and then met Fraser's gaze. "You have to choose between me and Kowalski."

Fraser froze. His heart seemed to stop in his chest, and his hands were suddenly cold and clammy. The only heat was in his cheeks, which were burning, and in Ray's gaze. This was impossible. Ray knew. Fraser shook his head in wonder. Ray knew Fraser wanted him that way, and _he returned Fraser's affections._

"There's no contest," said Fraser. As though there could be any question. He loved Ray. And then Ray was wrapping his arms around Fraser and pulling him close. And perhaps it wasn't the Ray Fraser knew, the younger, light-hearted, sharp-tongued Ray of yesterday. But it was still _his_ Ray, and when Ray pressed his mouth to Fraser's, the accumulated months of longing, carefully dammed and disguised, broke free. Fraser slid his hand to Ray's neck, to the warm back of his head, and kissed him as he'd never kissed anyone before.

Much later, they were lying on the bed — "necking", as Ray called it — and murmuring nonsense to each other. (Occasionally Fraser would ask Ray a question regarding their years of separation, and Ray would either tell him or evade and distract him with kisses. Fraser welcomed both responses equally, though he was tallying a mental list of subjects to follow up on later.) Ray kept applying the brakes, before things between them grew too carnal. "We should take this slow," he said. "I mean, this is new to you, right?" Fraser blushed and tried to deny it, to pretend he was blasé and experienced, but as always, Ray wouldn't be fooled. "Anyway," Ray added, "I'm kinda worn out. It's been a long day." And Fraser nuzzled his neck, and teased him about being an old man, who perhaps couldn't keep up with Fraser now. They laughed together and kissed each other, and Fraser was happier than he could ever remember feeling, when finally it occurred to him to ask.

"Ray?"

Ray raised his head from a thorough exploration of Fraser's suprasternal notch, and smiled at him. "Yeah, Benny?"

"Who's Ray Kowalski?"

* * *

> **mergatrude:** Oh! So this is all Turnbull's fault? *murders him* You are MAD!!!  
>  **me:** Which bit?  
>  **mergatrude:** Well, all of it! But this particular reference is to Turnbull dating Doyle!  
>  **me:** We've been watching Angel season 1. I can't help it. My brain is a gumbo.  
>  **mergatrude:** So I see!
> 
> **mergatrude:** Ray's got his ideal Benny back. Unsullied by Kowalski.  
>  **me:** HEE! Unsullied!Ben! (Even unsullied by Ray himself!)  
>  **mergatrude:** I just... I just can't see how this isn't going to make it all worse. *is still broken*  
>  **me:** I know. This wasn't quite what I expected.  
>  **mergatrude:** The damn llama!  
>  **me:** She needs some fine tuning, perhaps? *tries to look innocent*  
>  **mergatrude:** YOU'VE BROKEN MY CRUISELINER!!!!  
>  **me:** i did. /o\ i'm v sorry, ma'am. i'll try to fix it.  
>  **mergatrude:** I... I can't think.  
>  **me:** Me neither. Maybe we broke with the cruiseliner. Everything is all broken. And not working.  
>  **mergatrude:** Noooooooooooo!  
>  **me:** (But not empty.)  
>  **mergatrude:** I'm going to drink a lot of margaritas and make passes at Callum until Hugh throws me overboard.  
>  **me:** *ties you to a lifesaver thing*  
>  **mergatrude:** I can't hear you, I'm GETTING DRUNK!  
>  **me:** I heart you to PIECES!  
>  **mergatrude:** I feel something about you, but I'm not sure what it is. Let me have another drink before I decide, 'kay?

 

## Part 4

Callum and Hugh and Mark Smithbauer are still doing it. Thank god for room service, eh?

* * *

Ray woke with Fraser pressed against his back, arms wrapped around him. So far, so normal. But they were in his old cabin, there were no wolf snores coming from the corner, and Ray was wearing shorts and an undershirt. It was the first time in a long time that Ray could remember waking up wearing anything but a smile and a Mountie.

He groaned against the harsh morning sunlight and buried his face in the pillow, not yet ready to face the day and all the inevitable crap that would come with it. Fraser's hand inched down Ray's belly, and Ray had never been sure whether Fraser reached for Ray's dick in his sleep or whether pretending to be asleep was his sneaky Canadian way of cutting straight to the chase. Either way, Ray caught his hand and stopped it in its tracks. Yesterday was coming back to him in a barrage of unpleasant and humiliating scenes, and frankly, he was not in the mood for love.

Sure it was good to have Fraser back, that musky-smelling sleepy warmth around him like always. To know that Fraser had chosen him, even if it was a heads-you-lose kind of choosing. But he'd still kissed ("and more") Vecchio, and Ray and Fraser had a long way to go before things were right again. Most importantly, Ray needed to see Fraser and Vecchio together, to know for sure how they felt about each other, and that Fraser wasn't just telling Ray what he wanted to hear.

He also wanted to see the other Fraser — that was some weird mofo mojo, and Ray needed to see the evidence with his own eyes to believe it. Preferably with glasses.

Fraser yawned in his ear and stretched up against him, and Ray rolled over to face him, his anger and defenses melting at the sight of Fraser's serious sleep-rumpled face and repentantly ruffled hair. It was impossible to keep him as a distance, even after everything. Ray might as well get a tattoo on his forehead that said "Ben's Bitch", he thought, as he leaned in and kissed him good morning, and hitched his leg over Fraser's thigh.

 

They went to the cafe for breakfast and Ray was jumpy the whole way, thinking he was seeing the Fraser double in every shadow and corner. He tried to play cool, though, and Fraser didn't comment — he simply took Ray's hand in a firm grasp and walked with him. And there was no sign of another Fraser or Vecchio. Ray even had a brief moment where he wondered if Fraser had made the whole thing up, to convince Ray that Vecchio wasn't a problem anymore.

"I wonder where Diefenbaker's got to," Fraser remarked. They sat down at a table in the shade, and Ray signaled to the waiter for menus. "It's not like him to miss breakfast."

"Maybe he's with the other Fraser," said Ray without thinking. He regretted it as soon as he saw the flash of hurt on Fraser's face.

"That may well be the case." Fraser flicked his fingernail against the ball of his thumb, and accepted a menu from the waiter with a half-hearted smile.

Ray bumped knees with him under the table. "He'll come back. Once he realizes you're the real Fraser, he'll be back like a shot. Plus, you know, the mutt wouldn't leave—" _Me_ , he nearly said, but then he remembered. Dief had been tight with Vecchio, too, back in the day. What if he preferred balding Italians to blond Polacks? "Shut up and order," Ray told Fraser, scowling at the menu.

Fraser scanned the menu quickly and ordered Eggs Florentine and some fancy lap sang tea. Ray went for pancakes with bacon and maple syrup, and black coffee. The waiter took the menus away, and Ray and Fraser looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," said Fraser, unhappily. "This whole situation — this mess — is my fault. If it's any consolation, the duplication is temporary. As I understand it, the other me and I will recombine in two days — a day and a half, now — unless we request a 'permanence beam' from the LLAMA. Then Dief will come back and—"

Ray looked at him, aghast. "You didn't tell me this before? How is that a _consolation_ , Fraser? You're saying that in a day and a half, either me or Vecchio gets dumped. Again." He scraped his chair back, trying to hide how his hands were trembling. "I can't take this. I can't do this again."

"Ray!" Fraser lunged forward and grabbed his wrist, refusing to let him leave. "Ray, we have a choice about it. The LLAMA can make the current situation permanent if we want it to."

"Which 'we'?" Ray looked down at Fraser and felt bone-deep tired. "Who decides — you or him?"

"I— uh, we didn't clarify that, actually." Fraser frowned. "I can't imagine the other Fraser will object. I mean he's very much in love with—"

"Vecchio," Ray finished for him. "He's in love with Vecchio and he's _you_ , and gee, Fraser, you think I can't do the math?" His voice was rising along with his temper. This all sucked, and everything Fraser said just made it worse.

"You were in love with Stella," said Fraser, sharply, trying to tug him back to this seat. "There's no use denying it."

"What the hell does _that_ have to do with anything?" Ray prized Fraser's fingers from his wrist and then folded his arms tightly to hide how his hands wouldn't unclench. "I never cheated on you with Stella!"

Fraser blanched, but he rallied quickly. "I know. I'm just trying to explain that the other me is much younger — at least ten years younger. He doesn't know you, Ray. He's completely focused on Ray Vecchio, and I can't imagine that he won't want to stay with him."

"He's younger?" Ray felt the fight drain out of him, leaving him limp and starving for his breakfast. He sat down again. "How does that work? I thought you said the llama duplicated you."

Fraser licked his lip. "That's right, but somehow we didn't come out exactly the same. I suppose it somehow discovered me at the most intense moments of my attraction to each of you respectively." He glanced at Ray, and then looked out to sea. "My loves."

Ray tried to translate that into American. "Wait. Are you saying you love me more now than you ever have before?"

"I nearly lost you." Fraser lay his hand on the table between them, like an invitation, like a plea.

Ray went to hold it, but the waiter arrived with their plates, and the smell of bacon and maple syrup drove everything else from his mind.

Fraser attacked his breakfast with less enthusiasm, but he did eat. That was a start. The family that eats together, stays together — that's what Ray's mom used to say. He wished Dief was here with them, to make it a real family, but they could work on getting the wolf back later. Right now, he was enjoying the feel of his shoulders relaxing, the relief of knowing Fraser really did love him. It wasn't just a story.

They lingered over their coffee and tea, basking in the sun and slowly working their way back into comfortable chitchat. But when they finally got up to leave, and Fraser handed Ray his sunglasses which he'd psychically remembered to bring, proving how much he _really did love Ray_ , they turned to the exit to see Vecchio grinning at a young guy — clean cut and familiar looking and _Holy Shit_ , it was _Fraser_. Walking into the cafe. Wearing a Stetson with his jeans and tight white tee.

At least Dief wasn't with them. It was just Vecchio and — Fraser, younger than Ray had ever seen him, his hair short and perfect, figure leaner and just all-round _younger_. Staring right back at him, equally stunned.

Ray's stomach flipped like a pancake, and he couldn't help looking from the other Fraser to his own, back and forth, contrasting and comparing, and _Jesus_ this was freaky.

Vecchio had stopped dead in the middle of the room and was staring at Ray and his Fraser, too, his mouth open like he was trying to catch bugs with it. Ray felt a small sudden pang of sympathy for him: Ray had the real Fraser right here. Whoever that was with Vecchio wasn't anything like the real deal. Which didn't explain why Ray's heart started pounding when the other Fraser started towards them with a Fraserish look of noble self-sacrifice on his face.

"Would you excuse me, Ray?" said Fraser, and was gone before Ray could say yea or nay, heading over to Ray Vecchio and stopping briefly on the way to say a few words to his younger self.

The younger self raised his eyebrows a fraction — a tic Ray knew meant he was mildly pissed off — and then continued toward Ray and held out his hand. "You must be Ray Kowalski. I beg your pardon, for some reason, I—" He cracked his neck. "I was expecting you to be female."

"Huh?" Ray shook the offered hand, distracted by younger Fraser's sheer beauty. Not that his own Fraser wasn't gorgeous, but there was something almost unearthly about young Fraser. Ray's eyes kept trying to find a flaw, something to hang his gaze onto, but there was nothing. Ray swallowed.

"Well, Ray mentioned a wedding, so I just assumed—" Fraser smiled apologetically. "Anyway, I felt compelled to come over and apologize for my reprehensible behavior yesterday."

"Whu-?" Ray shook his head to get his marbles lined up. "No. I mean, that wasn't you, Fra— Uh. Fraser."

"We're both Fraser," said Fraser, looking slightly long-suffering. "Although I'd be honored if you'd call me Ben. I have to say, I was shocked when I heard what I'd done.

"Yeah, well." Ray tried to at least _blink_ , but his eyes were jammed open. "Thanks."

Fraser's right eyebrow twitched — not pissed this time. Maybe amused. It was a mindfuck seeing these well-known expressions on this not-quite-familiar face. "It really is a pleasure to meet you, sir," Fraser said warmly.

Even in spite of the _sir_ , his tone made Ray blush and flick his gaze to where Vecchio and his own Fraser were deep in conversation. "Yeah, listen," he said, awkwardly. "You stick with your Ray, okay, where you belong. Stick tight. I mean, no offence, Fraser. Ben. Just, I can't—" He waved his hands in the air, trying to express all the myriad things he could not handle this morning, first among them being getting a crush on his boyfriend's former self.

"As you wish," said Fraser, sounding just like Fraser. He smiled wryly, gave a small formal nod of farewell, and turned back to Vecchio and the other Fraser.

Ray watched him go, absent-mindedly checking out his ass. Fuck. He groped behind him for a chair and sat down, and rested his forehead on the nice simple sun-warmed table. This was not good.

 

## Part 5

Smithbauer: What do you call three hot Canadians in a bed?  
Hugh: Good times!

* * *

"There has to be breakfast somewhere on this boat," Ray said, looking up and down the C Deck. "If we don't find something edible soon, I'm going to start chewing on your hat."

"The hat is sacred, Ray," said Fraser solemnly. "You can gnaw on my elbow if you must." He offered it, and Ray pushed it aside and then pushed Fraser against the wall and kissed the grin off his face. He kissed back eagerly, and Ray wondered how in hell he was going to keep up with Fraser, who now had ten years' advantage over him as well as superhuman Mountie stamina. They'd been up half the night, and Fraser showed no signs of wear and tear. Whereas Ray was definitely not at his sharpest, despite their late start today. He needed eggs.

"Food," he reminded him. "Us middle-aged guys need to keep the engine stoked."

"I'm sure we can find something." Fraser ran his hand through his hair, making it perfect in two seconds.

Ray grinned. "What are you gonna do — track us a moose? Have you got your compass with you, Benny?"

"A Mountie is never without his compass, Ray," said Fraser, patting his jeans pocket. "But we have other options available to us."

"Smell, right? You're going to sniff out the coffee."

"No, Ray." Fraser pointed to a sign on the wall. "There's a map of the boat here. If I calculate correctly—"

Ray cuffed him on the side of the head, and Fraser giggled like a schoolboy and led the way up to the B Deck, finding the cafe without putting a foot wrong. "Thank God," said Ray when he saw the chalkboard sign outside. "Ten more minutes and you'd have had to carry me."

"You're far more resilient than you think you are," Fraser told him, "but I'd be more than happy to carry you if it came to that."

"Yeah," said Ray elbowing him in the ribs. "You owe me for hauling your ass all over the southern half of the Canadian wilderness."

But Fraser wasn't listening. He was too busy staring across the cafe with a startled look on his face. Ray followed his gaze and saw Kowalski and — Fraser. A _second_ Fraser. A _different_ Fraser. It looked like 47-year-old Fraser from yesterday. Ray tried to speak, but his vocal cords had seized up.

"That's Ray Kowalski?!" said the young Fraser next to him. "Good Lord."

"Benny, who— _who is that?_ " Ray's voice wobbled.

Fraser glanced at him, frowning, and his eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Ray. I forgot to tell you — well, I wasn't convinced it was real, but if you can see him, too— There's another me. That's Benton Fraser."

"Then who are you?" Ray gripped Fraser's shoulder to make sure he was real, which was stupid because they'd been kissing only minutes ago, but it felt as if everything could just melt away like a dream, and Ray would be back rattling around Chicago like nothing had happened. "Where did you come from?"

"There was a llama." Fraser's gaze was fixed on the other two again, as intent as if Kowalski was holding a gun on them.

"A llama?" Ray couldn't believe this. "You're blaming this on livestock?"

"And two strangely bossy women," Fraser added.

"My sisters," Ray guessed. "Did Frannie do this? She's always sticking her nose in where you're concerned, and—"

Fraser's mouth curved up at the corner, and Ray had to stop himself from leaning in and kissing it despite how nothing was making any sense. "No, Ray. These strange women were Australian, I believe."

"Huh." Yesterday's Fraser had said something about being in New Zealand territory. That was more or less the same neighborhood as Australia, if Ray remembered rightly.

"They told me where to find you."

"I like them already." Ray smiled at him. Did it matter if there were two Frasers? He couldn't get his head around it long enough to figure that out.

Fraser rubbed his eyebrow distractedly. "I'm sorry, Ray, would you excuse me a moment?"

"Sure," said Ray. "Just don't take too long or I'm eating breakfast without you."

"Right you are." Fraser set off across the cafe, weaving his way between the tables. The other Fraser, Kowalski's one, started in Ray's direction.

"Oh, and Benny?" Ray called after his Fraser.

He stopped and looked back enquiringly over his shoulder.

"Don't go changin'," said Ray.

Fraser smiled and went to talk to Kowalski, stopping for a few words with the older version on the way, and wasn't _that_ a headtrip and a half? Then Fraser the elder came over, his hair curling in the breeze, laugh lines fanning from his eyes despite his serious expression. He'd looked purposeful coming over, but once he was standing in front of Ray he didn't seem to know what to say. "Hello, Ray."

"Fraser? It _is_ you." He looked exactly the same as yesterday — he was even wearing the same jeans with the torn cuff. "How is this even possible?"

"This ship isn't bound by the normal laws of reality," Fraser explained. "There have been all sorts of unusual and occasionally alarming events since we've been here."

"Yeah? Then you must fit right in." Ray felt his face heat up. "Do— do you remember yesterday?"

Fraser's gaze locked with his, then slid down to settle somewhere around Ray's collarbone. "Every second." His lips firmed. "I'm very sorry, Ray. I behaved appallingly on all counts, and implicating you like that — It wasn't fair to either you or Ray." He sighed and shook his head, looking grim for a minute.

Ray's heart went out to him. "Hey, you didn't exactly have to twist my arm," he said. "If anything, you could bust me for entrapment, so—"

Fraser raised his eyebrows, amusement lightening his expression. "Just like the old days." He grew serious again. "Are you — is everything okay?"

Ray looked past him at his own Benny, deep in conversation with Kowalski. "Yeah. It's weird, though. He doesn't remember us being together." Ray felt disloyal talking about Fraser like this, but he was talking _to_ him, too, and this other Fraser was easy to talk to, like an old well-worn shoe. Ray knew him inside and out — they had a long history and no secrets. "But, I mean, it's good with him, it's uncomplicated—" Ray couldn't resist the jab. "—and I—" He tailed off and shrugged. "It's not hurting anyone. It's good."

Fraser nodded. Ray could tell he was jealous, but you couldn't get everything you wanted — life didn't work like that. This Fraser had made his choice and Kowalski would look after him. The younger Fraser needed Ray and Ray needed him right back.

"I'm glad." Fraser folded his arms, the casual dress version of parade rest. "If he doesn't remember — us — he must be very young."

"Yeah," said Ray, bristling, "that has certain advantages, you know."

Fraser flushed and took a step back. "Of course."

But Ray couldn't let him go like that, with a flea in his ear. He put his hand on Fraser's arm. "Hey, Benny. How are _you_ doing? Is Kowalski treating you right?"

"Better than I deserve," said Fraser morosely.

Ray shook his head. "Everyone makes mistakes. Kowalski was married — he knows that. Nobody's perfect — not even you — and what keeps people together is knowing how to forgive and forget." He rubbed his thumb over Fraser's blue plaid shirtsleeve. "It's just killing you that you can't write up a formal reprimand for your file, isn't it?"

The crinkles around Fraser's eyes deepened. "The confessional does have its benefits, whatever form it takes."

"Oh, believe me. I know." Ray let him go. "Be happy with Kowalski, okay? Forget about me. I've got jailbait-you on my hands." He laughed under his breath. "Until he turned up on my doorstep, I'd forgotten you were ever that innocent."

Fraser shook his head slowly. "Be careful, Ray. If you recall, my youthful idealism had its dangerous side."

"It was mostly dangerous to my clothes," Ray said. "My drycleaner loved you." He laughed. "Hey, stop worrying. What are the chances of running into desperate criminals on a cruise ship?"

"Higher than you think," said Fraser darkly. "I'd steer well clear of the vehicle deck."

"And even if we do," Ray continued, ignoring his doom and gloom, "we survived it once."

"Survived what?" asked the younger Fraser, from Ray's side.

Ray jumped, and then grinned at him. "Chicago, wiseguys, scumbags, the Duck boys sucking up to the Feebs, wolf hair on my upholstery, Frannie coming onto you at every opportunity, being bitched out by Welsh, bratty teenage girls, the Canadian forests, deranged terrorists, and Victoria Metcalf," he said, reciting the litany.

"Victoria?" His Fraser looked startled. "She came to Chicago? You met her?"

Ray's stomach dropped. Fraser didn't remember. They didn't have that between them — the love and the betrayal, scars and forgiveness. "Yeah." Ray exchanged a speaking glance with the older Fraser, the years of give and take binding them together, and then told him quietly, "Go on, get out of here."

Fraser bit his lip, then inclined his head to both of them. "I'm sure you'll be very happy together," he said, formally, and left to join Kowalski's side.

Ray gestured his Fraser to sit down at a table in the sun, and signaled for menus. Fraser left him in peace while they made their selections and ordered, and then prompted him. "Victoria."

"It's a long story," Ray warned, "and it's not very pretty."

"We've got plenty of time." Fraser told him, lacing their fingers together. When Ray hesitated, Fraser squeezed his hand. "Ray, I was there. I may not remember, but scientists are increasingly discovering time isn't a simple straight line that only travels in one direction." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, his face clear and open and warm. "What I'm saying is — you have to trust me."

"I do," said Ray, instantly. He covered their entwined hands with his free one, and took a deep breath. "It started with a vacuum..."

* * *

I'm on the deck in my grimy old jeans doing routine maintenance on the LLAMA. I didn't like some of the sounds she made during the Fraser duplication last night, and I want to make sure that if she has to produce a permanence beam in the next day or so, she can. I've given her some hay to chew on, and that keeps her mostly quiet while I open her up and poke around her insides, checking everything's hunky-dory. You're sleeping late. I think you're still mad at Fraser, and that might extend to me a little. I keep making things worse. /o\ But I'm pretty sure doubling Fraser was a good idea. I mean, how else can everyone get the happy ending they deserve, given the cruiseliner doesn't seem inclined towards the OT3 place?

Anyway, Dief's sitting next to Albuquerque and they both seem to be enjoying the sun. I start whistling, realize I've been earwormed by Sarah Silverman, damn her!, and hum the Due South theme instead. Dief flicks his ears at me mockingly, but the llama joins in.

I oil some of the ball joints, and start to clean around the spark plugs when I notice rust on the Static Delay Override Defibrillator. Sea air is bad for animatronics. I rub at it and hope it won't affect anything important, but when I touch it, Albuquerque starts complaining and shifting restlessly.

"Damn," I say, and I go to borrow Turnbull's phone to call the LLAMAline. They'll know what to do.

"Hello, LLAMAline, Willow speaking. This call is being recorded for quality assurance purposes. How can I help?" says a cheerful voice on the other end.

I wonder if it's _that_ Willow, but decide it can't possibly be. "Hi, my llama's rusty around her SDOD. Is there anything I can do, or should I replace the part? She seems sort of tender there."

"Have you been feeding her the weekly recommended allowance of pelagic fish? Because that's the best way to stop her from rusting."

I lean on the wall by the purser's office and scratch my foot absent-mindedly. "She likes cheesecake. Not so fond of seafood."

"Okay. You could try baby oil." There's a censorious note in Willow's tone that makes me think she thinks I'm spoiling Albuquerque shamelessly.

"It's just that she's kind of a fussy eater." I catch up with what she said. "Um, baby oil in her food?"

"On the rust," says Willow. "Or WD-40 if you have any."

"Oh, okay. And — is she likely to self-repair in the next few hours? I might need her to produce a permanence beam." I explain about the Frasers, perhaps at more length than is really appropriate. "And, you know, I thought when we copied him there'd be two exactly the same, but the llama in her infinite wisdom—"

"LLAMAs can't actually duplicate people," says Willow. "Or objects."

I blink at the phone. "But she did! I mean, there are two Frasers now. She did that!" I wonder whether to offer to fax her a photo as proof, but she's already talking.

"Duplication takes an enormous amount of energy. The LLAMA would need a power source roughly half the size of the sun. I think you'd have noticed."

"What?" I squeak. "But. What? a) How do you know that? and 2) Where did the other Fraser come from, then?"

"My guess would be an AU, but that's really something only the LLAMA can tell you," says Willow.

"I, uh, I don't speak camelid," I admit sheepishly.

"I can send you the language tapes for only $499.99. Learn Camelid in Six Weeks. If you complete the course and still can't communicate with your LLAMA, we'll give you a full refund." There's a murmur in the background. "Uh, minus administrative costs. Anya, shouldn't you be billing someone for something?"

"Um, that's okay," I say. Maybe one of the Frasers speaks camelid, or maybe you've picked it up from hanging out with Albuquerque all the time. Either way, six weeks is far too long. "Thanks anyway."

"Bye," says Willow cheerfully, but I hardly hear her. I hang up in a daze and stumble out to the deck, where Dief and Albuquerque are nose to nose, humming "Hey There Delilah" by the Plain White T's, which instantly earworms me, relieving me of the constant refrain of Fucking Matt Damon.

I sit on the deck in front of Albuquerque and look up at her dopey contented expression. "What did you do?" I ask, nervously.

She snuffles disparagingly and clearly makes a rude remark about me to Dief.

I rest my head on my knees and fret for a while, and then go and find you. If I'm going to have a major freak out, I don't want to do it on my own.

* * *

> **mergatrude:** I think my camelid is rudimentary. Although I make a point of learning the phrase, "My friend will pay!" in every possible language.

>  

## Part 6

You realise that both Callum and Hugh have played hockey players on TV (in MLaaD and ReGenesis, respectively)?! Callum/Hugh/Smithbauer = MFEO!

* * *

 

> **sageness:** You will fix it.  
 **mergatrude:** Or Hugh will ... do something.  
 **me:** Hugh will throw us overboard.  
 **mergatrude:** I think so. Or he'll throw the Fraser(s) overboard.  
 **me:** I'm going to (try to) make everyone happy!  
 **mergatrude:** Is that possible?  
 **me:** Ummm... *looks evasive*  
Sort of.  
Kind of.  
I don't know if you're going to like it.  
 **mergatrude:** Are we going to have to duplicate the entire cruiseliner to achieve that?  
 **me:** Heh. That was one thought, seriously. Like, splitting dimensions.  
 **sageness:** Oh, that's like splitting fandom apart.  
 **mergatrude:** Where the F/V people are tidily in a separate dimension to the F/K people, and never the twain shall meet.  
 **me:** Well, I _want_ F/K and F/V to coexist in the same place, but without F/K/V, it kind of can't.  
 **sageness:** Except we love both!  
 **mergatrude:** "Why can't we all get along with each other?" "42!"  
 **sageness:** polyamory?  
 **me:** I don't think either Ray would like that.  
 **mergatrude:** Maybe we just need more llamas?

>  **me:** Poor Dief! It's hardest on him, I think.  
 **mergatrude:** Absolutely!  
 **me:** He can't choose.  
 **sageness:** poor woobie  
 **mergatrude:** *llama offers him cheesecake*  
 **sageness:** He CAN'T  
 **mergatrude:** Maybe he should go back to Hugh? *follows him*  
 **me:** Initially I was going to have him choose F/K, because he looks like Draco and Draco was s3/4. And then we'd need a s1/2 Dief for F/V. But then Dief choosing one pairing over the other became too political. So now he's just hiding.  
 **mergatrude:** *pets him lots*  
 **sageness:** Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh  
 **me:** Hee! We flock to Hugh, who radiates a forcefield of ebullient cheer and very sexy singing.  
 **mergatrude:** \o/  
 **sageness:** oh yes  
 **me:** *g*

>  

* * *

 

> **me:** Okay, we need a mediated meeting between Fraser and Kowalski and Fraser and Vecchio, to decide whether to request a permanence beam or not... who mediates? Turnbull?  
 **mergatrude:** No!  
 **me:** Do you want to?  
 **mergatrude:** It has to be either us, or Hugh and Callum - they're disinterested parties. Turnbull is too Turnbull!  
 **me:** Hugh mediating makes me laugh, before I've even _started_ thinking what mischief he could get up to. Callum can watch. And smoke.  
 **mergatrude:** Hugh will be a Grand Master of Ceremonies!  
 **me:** Should we give him a gavel?

>  

* * *

Fraser's younger self and Ray Vecchio were already seated at the table when Fraser and Ray arrived. Ray nodded coolly and took a seat across from the younger Fraser, and Fraser sat opposite Ray Vecchio, who was turning a rubberband around and around his fingers like a fanbelt.

Ray Kowalski was fidgeting with the totem pole Fraser had carved him, and kept darting surreptitious looks at the younger Fraser.

Silence stretched like the rubber band until Ray Vecchio let the front legs of his chair fall to the floor with a clunk and smiled lopsidedly at Fraser. "How're you guys doing?"

"Fine," said Ray Kowalski, firmly.

"Things are going well." Fraser smiled to make up for Ray's terseness. "This afternoon we helped an elderly—" He was interrupted by three long blasts on the ship's horn.

"What was that?" Ray Kowalski sat up and glanced toward the door.

"I believe it's an indication we're departing New Zealand's coastal waters," said the other Fraser.

"Oh." Ray's hands stilled on the totem for a moment. "I, uh, thought— maybe it was an emergency." He took a deep breath. "Leaving New Zealand. Right."

Fraser bit back another apology — any further regrets would raise Ray's ire, especially in company — and avoided the complex gazes of the others. It was a relief when Hugh and Callum bustled in.

Callum was smoking, of course. He sat on the built-in cabinet near the door, his bare feet on a spare chair, and watched the proceedings noncommittally.

Hugh sat down at the table. Someone had armed him with a gavel. He glanced around at everyone, his eyes widening when he got to the other Fraser, and then nodded decisively and banged the gavel on the table. Fraser braced himself for obscenities, but Hugh only said, "Let's get started."

"All right," said Fraser.

"Okay," said Ray and Ray, simultaneously.

The younger Fraser said nothing.

There was a pause. "So, as I understand it," Hugh drawled, patting his pockets and extracting a packet of cigarettes, "the llama split you in two to alleviate some pressing problems, and now you have to decide whether you want to stick it out, or collapse your wave function."

"Yes," said the younger Fraser. "Although the fact that we came out differently and that we don't share all the same memories suggests we're not exact copies."

Fraser looked at him in surprise.

"Right, right," said Hugh. "There's a rumor you've been snatched from an alternate universe."

The younger Fraser nodded. "If that's the case, that would probably suggest that the Chicago where I belong contains an abandoned and rather confused Diefenbaker."

"Not to mention a bereft Ray Vecchio," said Ray Vecchio, as if that had only just occurred to him. "But hey, why I should I suffer here when I can suffer there?"

"Someone has to stop the Bolt brothers from running a train full of nuclear waste into the city of Chicago," said the older Fraser. "Among many other things."

"And you think the me in that AU can't handle it." Ray Vecchio narrowed his eyes. "If you're not there, everything falls apart, is that it? Get over yourself. Welsh will give me another partner."

"There's gotta be a thousand AUs where the Bolt brothers get away with it," said Ray Kowalski. "You can't fix the world in every iteration, right? That's not how the many-worlds theory works."

Everyone stared at him.

"What?" He scratched his chin smugly. "I can't know stuff? I mean, sure, we gotta try to stop the bad guys, but we can only take responsibility for the reality we're in, right? Else we'll go cuckoo."

"That's a fair point," Fraser agreed reluctantly. It went against the grain to simply allow criminals to commit misdeeds, but to pursue perfect justice in every world was indubitably a road to insanity.

"We can take responsibility for the reality where we belong," said the younger Fraser, firmly, "even if it's not the one we're in."

Ray Vecchio scowled at him. "You're as bad as he is." He jerked his thumb at Fraser.

"I am him," the younger Fraser pointed out.

"Yeah, and just like him, you always gotta be the one to stick your neck out." He shook his head. "Look at the choice you've got — an all-expenses-paid cruise of the south Pacific with me."

"It's the Tasman Sea," interjected Callum from the corner.

"It could be the Gobi Desert for all I care," Ray told him. "You could stay here with me, but no. You'd rather be back in that scummy apartment on Racine, alone, with all that heartache ahead of you. Let the Duck boys take care of the Bolt brothers. And Victoria."

"Ray, you're there waiting for me. And now that I know you—" The younger Fraser reached for his hand. "You feel the same. It's no hardship to return, to take my place in the timeline. Besides, Dief—"

"Forget Dief," said Ray Vecchio. "What about me? You'll just end up in the same place as him—" He jerked his thumb again. "—caught between two Rays."

"Perhaps not," said the younger Fraser. "It's an _alternate_ timeline, after all. Perhaps Mr. Kowalski and I will never meet."

"Oh jeez, don't call me that," said Ray Kowalski. "My name is Ray."

"I heard it was Stanley," said Hugh, grinning at him.

Ray jabbed a finger at him. "You, shut up. Who invited you, anyway?"

"We needed an impartial arbitrator," said Fraser, apologetically.

Ray rolled his eyes. "Anyway, Vecchio's right," he told the younger Fraser. "You're just gonna leave him here, hanging around making puppy eyes at Frase?"

"Your sympathy touches me, Stanley," said Ray Vecchio. "I'm on the first chopper back to Chicago, if that's what Fraser wants."

"Which Fraser?" asked Hugh.

Ray Vecchio flipped him the bird, until the younger Fraser pulled his hand down. "Ray, I'm sure we can reach an outcome that will accommodate everyone."

"Yeah?" Ray Kowalski folded his arms and regarded him skeptically. "Let's hear it, then."

"Well." The younger Fraser looked thoughtful, then licked his lower lip.

Fraser got an uncomfortable feeling he knew what he was about to say. He put a pre-emptive restraining hand on Ray Kowalski's arm.

"I've never really understood society's proscription against polyamory," the younger Fraser started. "Perhaps in time—"

"What?" yelped Ray Vecchio. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Oh dear," said Fraser.

Hugh snickered.

"What's polamry?" asked Ray Kowalski.

"It's not important, Ray," said Fraser, casting a stern eye at his younger self.

"He's trying to match make the three of us," Ray Vecchio explained.

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," said Callum, from the corner.

"Jesus! That is looney tunes," said Ray Kowalski, staring round-eyed at the younger Fraser. He turned to Fraser himself. "You want that? Like, both of us?"

Fraser swallowed, caught between diplomacy and the truth. "If you truly cared for each other, I wouldn't — be averse."

"Maybe in some other alternate universe," said Ray Vecchio.

Ray Kowalski glared at him. "Not on your life. Not on any of your lives."

Fraser shared a look of disappointment with his younger self.

Ray Vecchio grinned, taunting Ray Kowalski. "Hey, you're the expert on the many-world theory. Somewhere out there, you and me are doing it."

"Yeah, right," Ray Kowalski retorted. "Next you're going to say we don't even need Fraser in the mix. Creep."

"Well, Ray, in theory, you—" the younger Fraser started, but Fraser interrupted.

"Would you look at the time. Are we any closer to a decision about the permanence beam?" He looked around the table.

"Can we at least get verification on the AU thing before we decide?" said Ray Vecchio with a hint of desperation. "If it really was a split, maybe it's better this way."

"Yeah," said Ray Kowalski, backing him up to Fraser's surprise. "We oughta know what we're dealing with."

There was a scratching sound at the door, and Callum stretched out his foot and unlatched the door with his long, agile toes. Dief bounded in, barking urgently.

"What is it?" asked Ray Kowalski.

Fraser concentrated on deciphering Dief's garbled message, but before he had a chance to explain, the other Fraser turned pale and said, "He's been talking to the llama. I _was_ taken from an alternate universe — one in which Ray Vecchio is heterosexual."

 

## Part 7

The blond man smoking by the door broke the silence. "Give it a couple of years and you'll hook up with Kowalski, though, right?"

Fraser raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, who are you?"

"He's the actor who plays Ray Kowalski in the television series of our lives," explained Fraser's older self.

Fraser tilted his head and studied the man. There was a marked resemblance, despite the distinct difference in demeanor. But a television series? He cracked his neck. "Ah."

"But he's right, yeah?" said the rough man chairing the meeting. "You plus Kowalski 4 EVA?"

Dief barked an addendum to his earlier message, and Fraser looked at the other Fraser. They both frowned. "Oh dear."

"What?" said Ray Kowalski. "What?"

"In my universe, you're also heterosexual," Fraser told him.

He dropped his carved hockey stick in surprise. "Jeez, a universe where everyone's straight? That sucks! What are the odds?"

"Don't go," said Ray, from Fraser's side. "Stay here."

Fraser turned to him, drawn by the intensity of his gaze. They belonged together. His other responsibilities fell away. Perhaps in his home universe Ray Vecchio and Diefenbaker could keep each other company. Regardless, they were no longer his concern. His concern was right in front of him, was reaching for him. "Yes," said Fraser.

"Really? You'll stay?" Ray looked surprised and relieved in equal measures.

"Yeah." Fraser forgot the others' presence and leaned into him, kissed him, tightened his hands on Ray's bare arms. He couldn't lose this, not now.

* * *

They assembled in the ship's library. Gathering to have the permanence beam applied felt strangely like congregating for a double wedding — civil, of course, since both couples were gay, none had bothered to dress up for the occasion, and there wasn't a minister to be found.

In fact, the occasion was presided over by the peculiar, be-spectacled, red-headed woman, who went by the unlikely moniker of China. And the llama, which turned out to be animatronic. Fraser didn't trust either of them, but he'd do what he must to remain here. The Chicago he'd left behind seemed dark, damp and lonely in contrast with his new life with his Ray.

"You've decided to make the current arrangement permanent?" China asked.

"Yes," said Fraser and his older self, in unison.

"Are you sure?" She seemed nervous.

Fraser watched her closely. "Yes."

"Okay, good." She beamed at them all. "I'm glad it's working out, anyway. Um, okay. Stand over there." She waved them toward the soft-looking purple couches in the corner. "Uh, no. Actually, over here would be better." She pointed to the aisle between the shelves of books.

Fraser glanced at the books' spines: _Selected Fic by Estrella30_ , _The Sixteenth of June by Resonant8_ , _Chicago's Most Wanted by Speranza_. Surely that last one belonged in a police station? Fraser started to reach for it, but China coughed loudly to get their attention.

"Okay. You guys stand there, together." She pointed at Fraser and his older self. "You two, you can back away a bit. Don't want to get you caught in the crossfire — I, uh, don't know what that would do." She arranged the Frasers carefully, side by side, and then warned them not to move. "Okay, so I just need to—" She patted the llama. "Okay, Albuquerque — over to you. Permenate them."

A whirring noise started up in the llama's belly, like a desk fan growing louder and louder, or a small airplane coming in to land. But then something clunked, and the propeller noise started skipping. The llama bleated unhappily. China rubbed her neck. "You can do it! Just focus!"

The clunking got louder, and was soon joined by an ominous clinking, like broken glass being shaken in a paper bag. Tendrils of white smoke started to curl out of the llama's ears.

"Stop!" China told the llama. "Cool down! You're going to blow a gasket." The racket abated, and the llama hung its head and nosed at China's sandals. "I'm sorry, guys," China told Fraser and Fraser and Ray and Ray. "I thought I'd managed to repair her, but she's still not right."

"So fix her!" said Ray Vecchio, anxiously. "Get on with it!"

"Is there anything we can do to help?" asked the older Fraser.

"I just need a couple of hours. Oh, and can I borrow your knife?" asked China. She rolled back the fur on the llama's belly, revealing a hatch. "I need to get into the abdominal cavity."

"Certainly." The older Fraser handed over his boot knife. "Be careful, it's—"

But China had already pried the point of the knife under the casing and was pushing down hard. The llama squealed and shifted its weight, and the movement made the knife slide sideways. The hatch sprang open, and China shrieked. "Ow! Fuck!"

"—blunt," finished the older Fraser. "I used to it carve a gift for Ray."

"Fuuuck!" said China, clutching her wounded hand to her chest, the dark glistening patch spreading across her t-shirt. "I never understood why blunt knives were supposed to be so bad! Owww!"

"They cut less cleanly," Fraser explained. "And you have to exert more pressure, so you're more likely to—"

"Cut myself," China gasped, bleeding copiously. "I get it. Jesus! Someone do something!"

There was blood on the llama, the floor and China's t-shirt. The llama was stomping its feet nervously, backing away from the ruckus. Her stomach cavity was open to view, full of cathodes and diodes and circuit boards and blood. She smelled of burning plastic.

"I'll take care of the llama," said Ray Kowalski, grabbing her head. "Cool it, critter. I got you." He stroked her muzzle, and she whimpered, but stopped stomping. "Hey, Fraser — I mean, uh, you. Ben. Give her your hat to eat."

"What?" Fraser was shocked. "My hat?"

Ray Kowalski nodded, circling his extended hand impatiently. "Yeah, she likes it. At least, she keeps trying to chew on Fraser's but he don't have his here. Come on, come on! We don't calm her down, we're screwed."

Fraser reluctantly handed over his Stetson, and the llama promptly took a large bite out of it, chewed and swallowed. And then moaned quietly and twisted her head from side to side.

"That's not good," said Ray Kowalski, unnecessarily. He knelt down by her side and poked his finger into her stomach cavity. "Anyone got a socket wrench?"

"I have a tuning fork," said Fraser, extracting it from his pocket.

Ray Kowalski looked up, a streak of grease on his cheek already. "Yeah, okay." He took the tuning fork and went back to fiddling, absorbed in the task of fixing the llama.

"It's going to be all right, right?" said Ray Vecchio, peering over Ray Kowalski's shoulder at the tangle of wires and valves inside. "I mean, it's not going to blow up or anything."

The llama moaned again, louder this time, and the smoke that had been curling like tendrils from her ears started to billow, thick and gray. Everyone looked reproachfully at Ray Vecchio.

"What?" he said.

The smoke thickened rapidly, becoming acidic and filling their lungs.

"We should get it out of here." The older Fraser rapidly packed away his first aid equipment. "Aside from any other risk factors, there's the potential damage to the books."

"It does seem like a rare collection," Fraser agreed.

"Shit." China looked at the llama with dismay. "Mergatrude's gonna kill me." She carefully clenched and stretched her hand, testing her bandage, and then helped Ray Kowalski herd the animal outside while Fraser retrieved his sullied hat and made sure Ray Vecchio and the other Fraser made it to safety.

"Sand bucket!" China was shouting as they burst through the narrow doorway into the blessedly fresh sea air. "There's a sand bucket by the stairs. Man, I'm so sorry! I should've known she'd react badly to blood." She wiped her forehead with her wrist and looked around at the disarray. "Really _really_ sorry!"

"Why blood?" asked Ray Vecchio. Fraser could see his cop instincts twitching.

"Um, because of the pentacles on the inside of her ears, mostly." China bit her lip. "I mean, she's a _good_ llama! She is! But I think she's kind of magic, and you know — blood and magic." She winced. "Not that I know that much about it."

"Well, perhaps we need to ask someone who does," suggested the older Fraser.

"Oh!" She slapped her forehead. "I should call the LLAMAline! They'll know what to do." She headed for the stairs. "I just have to borrow Turnbull's phone. I'll be right back."

"You better not be making a run for it, lady," said Ray Vecchio, jabbing his finger at her.

"I won't, I promise! I'm going to make this right!" But before China was more than halfway up the stairs, the llama's head exploded, sending a shockwave across the deck. Fraser shoved Ray Vecchio to the ground and covered him with his body to protect him from shrapnel. A few feet away, through the clouds of black smoke, he could see the other Fraser mirror his actions with the other Ray.

There was very little debris, though, and when the smoke cleared, the llama appeared mostly intact, except for its head, which was charred and blank-eyed.

But it didn't move, didn't make a sound. It was dead.

"Fuck! She's going to _kill_ me!" said China from the stairs, and thundered up to the B Deck, presumably still in search of Turnbull's phone.

Fraser sat back on his heels and looked around the deck at the sunlight, the gulls riding the thermals, the acres of blue gentle waves stretching out in all directions. At Ray Kowalski and his Fraser checking each other over for possible injury. At his own Ray, staring at him desperately. The choice had been taken out of their hands. The llama was well and truly out of commission.

"No llama, no permanence beam," said Ray, voicing Fraser's thoughts.

Fraser nodded, pressing his lips together. "You're right. In just over twenty-four hours I'll be inexorably sucked back to my own universe." He took Ray's hand and pressed it to his own cheek. "I don't want to leave you."

 

## Part 8

Callum/Hugh/Smithbauer are pretty damned happy about the out-of-commission-ness of the (PG-13-forcefield-enforcing) llama. Mergatrude, otoh, is understandably upset.

* * *

They sat solemnly around a table in the bar. Ray was still clutching the totem Fraser had carved for him. Everything was going to hell in a handcart and he needed to run his fingers over the rough bumps and knobs to keep from freaking out.

"Are you sure I can't buy either of you a drink?" China asked the Frasers for the fourth time.

"I don't drink," they chorused, for the fourth time. "Thank you kindly." This time they sounded even more polite. Ray wondered whether there was a politeness limit, like the speed of light. A natural boundary beyond which politeness could not be pushed. And if so, what Fraser would do when he hit it.

"Right. Right, I forgot." China gazed into the martini glass in front of her and sighed deeply. "Neither do I." She pushed it away from her.

Vecchio grabbed it before she'd even let it go, and downed it in two gulps.

"So anyway," China reported, "I talked to the LLAMAline and they were — pretty mad at me, actually. It turns out I, uh, missed out some important safety steps when I constructed her." She met Ray's eye and then looked down at her hands. "I didn't follow the instructions, because I was trying to get her to align time zones and she's not really meant to do that. So, um, anyway. They don't have anyone available to come out and fix her in the next twenty-four hours."

Vecchio rubbed his hand over his face and inched along the bench seat to get even closer to the young Fraser. Ben. Ray could understand that — the whole experience was making him want to stick to his own Fraser like glue.

"I could have another go at fixing her," he offered, doubtfully. The inside of the llama was nothing like a car, but the basics couldn't be that different, right? It was all power and cause and effect. More or less.

"They strongly advised against attempting any further repairs," China said quickly. "But they are sending a temporary replacement as soon as possible. They couldn't guarantee it'd get here in time, but." She grimaced hopefully. "It might?"

"In the meantime," said Ray's Fraser, "there's no other way to prevent him — um, me. The other Fraser. From returning to his original universe?"

"Not that I know of." China's shoulders slumped. "Have I mentioned I'm really sorry?"

"Yeah," snapped Ray Vecchio. "It's not helping."

"Ray." Ben put his hand on Ray's shoulder. "It may be for the best. Regardless, we should make the most of the time we have left."

"Actually, it might behoove us to prepare you for the months ahead," Fraser told him. "You'd be forewarned — you could save many people from a lot of harm and heartache."

"Frase." Ray gently squeezed the back of Fraser's neck. "Give them some space."

"Right." Fraser's eyes flicked to Vecchio, then dropped to the table top between them. "Perhaps we should adjourn."

"If there's nothing we can do, then yeah." Ray slid out of the booth and Fraser followed. Vecchio and Ben stayed put, talking too quietly for Ray to hear. China was watching them with a creepy kind of fixation. "Hey, you!" Ray told her.

She glanced up and blushed. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well, it's too late for that. Leave them alone, okay?" Ray watched as she got unsteadily to her feet. "How much did you drink before you remembered you don't drink?"

"Um. I lost count?" She steadied herself on the next table. "I think I should go and lie down now."

"Before someone arrests you for screwing everything up," Ray told her, and steered her to the door.

"Ah, Ray?" Fraser came through the door after them. There was a queer note in his voice — a note Ray hadn't heard in a long time. It gave him a tingle.

"Uh-huh?" He watched China slowly weave her way down the deck toward the staircase. All the while he was aware of the heat of Fraser's presence, standing real close and radiating at him like a beacon.

"I don't think the llama was only affecting the time zones," said Fraser in a deep, sultry voice. He slid his hand into the back pocket of Ray's jeans. Ray jumped a little, his tingle turning into a full-body buzz, and he turned and shoved Fraser against the wall. And Fraser didn't object like he normally would. Instead he snuck his other hand into Ray's other back pocket, and yanked him close.

* * *

> **mergatrude:** Heh! Listen to the sound of the PG-13 barrier crashing down.  
 **me:** Yep.

>  

* * *

"God, Benny." Ray rolled on top of Fraser — _his_ Fraser, and maybe they didn't have the same history, the memories binding them together, but he was still _Fraser_ , he was _here_ , and he was as much a part of Ray as Ray's hand or the bullet scar on his shoulder — and sat back enough to help him pull the henley over his head. God, he was beautiful. Ray's breath caught in his throat. Ten years apart, one hurried indiscretion (with the other Fraser), and a night of chaste making out, and now it felt like they were right back at the beginning. Like it was their first time.

And hell, it _was_ their first time for Fraser. Ray leaned in and kissed his mouth. "You okay?"

Fraser's chest heaved, and he tried to speak a few times before he managed to force any words out. "I'm fine, Ray. I'm—" He shook his head, his eyes blurred with desire. "I'm _fine_." He curved his hand around Ray's neck and tugged him back down for another kiss.

"Good." Ray dug his fingers into Fraser's waist and held him. "I want you to fuck me. I need you to, I need to feel it when you come inside me."

Fraser's skin flushed red. "Ray," he said, like his heart was breaking.

"There'll be other guys for you," Ray told him, sounding more sure than he felt. "You'll find someone. I know you will." He kissed him, pulled at his lower lip with his teeth. "But right now, it's just us. I want to be your first, okay? That's—"

"Yes." Fraser rolled him over on the narrow bunk bed, into the wall so they had to shuffle sideways so Ray could lie flat, and held himself over Ray. "I want you."

"That's how it's supposed to be." Ray looked up at him, at his dark eyes and reddened lips. He wondered what Fraser saw when he looked down at him.

Fraser gave him a small, brave smile. "This, Ray. _This_ is how it's supposed to be." He started slowly and deliberately unbuttoning Ray's shirt, but Ray couldn't wait. He rocked his hips up to meet Fraser's, rubbing against his hardness. Fraser persevered stubbornly with the shirt for a few seconds longer than Ray gave him credit for, and then growled and tugged at it roughly, tearing the thin fabric and laying Ray's chest bare.

"That's it," Ray told him, kissing him fiercely. "That's— Yeah. You don't have to be careful with me, Benny. Just make me feel it."

Fraser's answering groan sounded like despair, and they thrust against each other urgently, raking each other's bodies with their fingers, holding on impossibly tightly.

Ray felt it building, too soon. "No, no." He tried to stop it, to slow it down. "I can't—" But Fraser was kissing him, was cupping his ass inside his pants, and there was no turning back. He came with a hoarse cry, his hand clenched in Fraser's hair, and it felt like the ship was collapsing around them, like reality was falling away. Like it was just them, the two of them. All he'd ever need.

He opened his eyes slowly, and Fraser was staring at him, wonder on his face.

"Did you—?" Ray demanded, and groped the front of Fraser's brown uniform pants. Fraser was still hard, the fabric only faintly damp from sweat and Ray's come. "Good, we can still— I mean, if you—"

Fraser nodded, but instead of making any move to strip them and roll Ray over, he wrapped himself around Ray's limp, sated body and held him, kissing his mouth, his neck, his shoulders. "I love you."

"I know, Benny." Ray swallowed painfully. "I know. I love you, too." He fell asleep soon after, and it was dark when he woke. He got up to go to the bathroom and stripped out of his still-damp clothes. When he came back to bed, Fraser was naked, too, his uniform pants crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed. Ray lay down in his arms and pulled him close. "Come for me."

"Yes," breathed Fraser, and Ray held him and smoothed down his side, found his erection and stroked it lovingly, watching Fraser's face as he tensed, and gradually climbed his way towards orgasm, and found release.

They slept again, and the next time Ray woke to sunlight and Fraser pressed up behind him, his dick hard against Ray's ass. Ray wasn't up to much himself, yet, but the opportunity was too much to pass up. He stretched down to rummage in the little drawer beneath his bunk and found a small bottle of lube. He lay back on the bed and Fraser hugged him from behind. Ray peeled Fraser's hand from its possessive position on Ray's chest and pressed the lube into it. "Do me."

Fraser's fingers curled around the cool bottle. He licked the back of Ray's neck, and moved away just far enough to trail his hand down Ray's spine. "It would be an honor."

There was the click of the bottle cap, and the next thing Ray knew, Fraser's wet, blunt fingers were opening him up. And if Ray closed his eyes, he could imagine this was any other time with Fraser — any time from a thousand — but he refused to do that. He wanted to feel every second of this, to be here with this Fraser for the first time they made love like this.

Fraser's fingers went deep, and Ray's heartbeat sped up. He pushed back hungrily, told him _yes_ and _now_ and _do it, Benny, do it_. Blindly hitched his knee forward so he was half hanging off the bed, and Fraser moaned behind him, his fingers gripping Ray's hip like desperation. Finally Fraser moved up behind him and pressed inside, inching in slowly while Ray's heart pounded in his chest and he reached back to tug Fraser closer, pull him in.

Fraser's breath was ragged, coming in gasps and groans, and his thrusts were eager and clumsy. Ray bit his lip, fighting back tears and longing, and the overwhelming need to stay like this forever. When he couldn't keep it in anymore, he twisted around and Fraser stopped fucking him and kissed him, sweet and sweeter, stealing everything — breath, sanity, heart. Ray's own hunger built, and he turned back. "Fuck me, Benny. I need—"

He broke off, suddenly empty. The room was silent except for his own heartbeat thundering in his ears, the rasp of his own breath. He turned his face into the pillow and reached behind him. The bed was empty. Fraser was gone.

 

## Part 9

Fraser couldn't sleep. He watched Ray, watched the morning light glint off his ball-chain bracelet where his wrist lay on the pillow beside him, the subtle movements as exhalations passed his gently curving lips.

This whole mess was Fraser's fault. Both Rays had volubly blamed China, but it was Fraser who had agreed to go along with the ridiculous plan in the first place — a solution doomed to complications and failure. He'd known at the time it was wrong, but narrative causality had driven him to agree. He should have resisted harder.

And now he had this — Ray lying beside him, at peace now that he'd forgiven Fraser and worn out from their love-making, his body warm and pliant — while soon Ray Vecchio would have no one. It was cosmically unfair. Fraser had to do something to stop the younger Fraser from being snatched away. He couldn't bear the thought of Ray Vecchio bereft.

Fraser slipped out of bed silently and pulled his clothes on. Perhaps if he examined the llama he could devise a way to fix it, just long enough to extract a permanence beam. There was bound to be some chewing gum and wire somewhere onboard. Let Ray have his rest; this was Fraser's problem to fix. He pressed a feather-light kiss to Ray's cheek and left the cabin.

The sun was higher in the sky than he expected, even allowing for his and Ray's prolonged mutual pleasuring. The sudden wave of desire they'd been swept up in must have dilated time somehow. He headed down to the library, deciding firmly against stopping off for a cup of tea on the way.

The sound of a helicopter approaching the ship made him look up briefly, but he was on a mission. He would not be deterred nor distracted. But when he approached the library, he found only Diefenbaker, lying mournfully on the charred wooden deck. He had a wreath of flowers between his front paws.

Fraser glanced at the library door, but the place seemed deserted. He crouched down to talk to Dief. "Where is the llama?"

 _Dead,_ Dief told him. He raised his head long enough to add, _Taken away._ And then lay down again.

Fraser put a comforting hand on the slope of his shoulder, and then went off in search of the body.

* * *

I'm woken from my hangover by a hammering noise.

No, wait. I still have the hangover. Oww! I roll out of bed and land on the floor with a thump that whacks all the air out of me, and then my hand starts throbbing in time with my head and through the pain-haze I remember what a mess I've made of everything. Once I've got my breath back, I crawl back under the covers.

The knocking starts again. "Are you in there?"

It's you.

"Mmmmnnnumph," I slump half on the bed, moan and pull a pillow over my head. Perhaps asphyxiation would be a good way to go.

The door opens, letting in a burst of fresh air, and I manage to get one of my legs on the bed and roll over, and not throw up.

"Whuuu?" I ask, miserably. I have to literally pry my eyes open with my fingers, and then the light stabs me in the retinas. I whimper.

"I can't believe you made her _head explode_!" You stand over me looking furious and upset, and point at the remains of the llama in the corner of the cabin. (Well, I couldn't leave her on deck all night. It wasn't right. What if wolves had savaged her carcass. Uh, though, come to think of it, the only wolf on board was rather fond of her. What if he'd savaged _my_ carcass?)

"I was _trying_ to get her to make a permanence beam," I try to explain, but it just comes out a jumble of pained vowels.

"Well, get up." You confiscate my pillow and fold your arms sternly. "You've got a delivery from the LLAMAline."

"Oh." A spark of hope flares in me. The new llama's arrived already! If I can make it produce a permanence beam, we can keep both Frasers in this reality and everything will be okay after all. Everyone will be (more or less) happy. And maybe you'll take to the replacement and stop minding so much about Albuquerque. I cross my fingers, and fumble for my glasses. "'Kay. Let's go take a look."

You shake your head. "Shower, clean clothes, breakfast. Then llama."

"You're such a mom," I groan, hiding my gratitude for you taking care of me. "There's no time now. We have to get the permanence beam up and running before henley!Fraser's sucked back to his dimension."

"There's hours yet," you point out. "The initial duplication was in the evening and that was for forty-eight hours, right?"

"Uh, sort of?" I take my glasses off, rub my face, and then put them on again. "Give or take. Maybe more like forty or, um, thirty-something."

"China!"

"I'm sorry! I was trying to help. It's an art, not a science." I haul myself upright and decide my t-shirt-and-shorts sleepwear is plenty respectable for wandering around the ship. "Come on, there's work to do." Urgency focuses my mind, and the headache recedes enough that I can walk without wanting to vomit.

You're watching me closely, though. "Coffee?" You look away. "And I'm not suggesting that out of any concern for _you_. You killed my llama. But you have to fix as much of this mess as you can."

"I don't drink coffee," I remind you.

You grab my arm to hurry me up, and take me to the café. "Perhaps now's a good time to start."

I open my mouth to protest, but that seems fair, actually.

Twenty minutes later we arrive at the purser's office, and by then at least half of my cylinders are firing. (Metaphorical cylinders; I'm not animatronic.) Caffeine is cool! I try to remember why I gave it up, but it's hard to think about anything for more than a few seconds before my brain starts sparking in a new direction. Oh. That might be why.

Turnbull's waiting, holding a clipboard. He looks mysterious and blatantly discreet. Normally you and I would exchange glances about this, but you're still pretty mad.

"You have to sign the packing slip as proof of receipt." Turnbull thrusts a clipboard and pen in my face. I take them and stare blankly at the printed paper.

"What is it?" you ask.

I glance at you, then back at the paper. "Um. It says it's a Z-scale 'Everything's Broken' Repair Animatronic," I say slowly. "Z-'EB'RA for short."

* * *

> **mergatrude:** A zebra is still not a llama.  
 **me:** I know. But does this give you hope that something good might be around the corner?  
 **mergatrude:** No. I feel like something else bad is going to happen first. Well, it already did! Young!Fraser disappeared.  
 **me:** I know. We just don't know that yet.  
 **mergatrude:** Neither does regular Fraser.  
 **me:** Nope.  
 **mergatrude:** I had a moment there where I thought his futzing with the carcass might cause the disappearance, but it's just your vagueness. *g* Can't be that cruel to poor Fraser! He's already feeling guilty enough.  
 **me:** Yeah, no, young!Fraser had already disappeared when red!uniform!Fraser got up. It's hard to tell, I know, because of the lack of clarity around the timelines.

>  **mergatrude:** All that tampering with longitude is bound to have repercussions. We just wanted to hang out together. Then we got others to come along, and now there's a huge mess. We've warped time and space and realities.  
 **me:** I know. *feels guilty* At least Callum and Hugh are happy?  
 **mergatrude:** YES!!! *clings to that fact*  
 **me:** Though what if one of them wants to make the thing with Mark permanent and the other doesn't? o.O (Please, keep me away from them.)  
 **mergatrude:** DO NOT BREAK THEM!  
 **me:** *backs away from them slowly, with no sudden movements*  
 **mergatrude:** Mark doesn't want permanent. He likes Turnbull's massages.  
 **me:** LOL!  
 **mergatrude:** The next thing is the cruiseliner is going to be invaded by fluffy bunnies!  
 **me:** I thought the next thing was the llama was going to learn to cook. *g*  
 **mergatrude:** Which llama? The new one?  
 **me:** Um.  
 **mergatrude:** Not another malfunctioning llama!!!  
 **me:** I'm going to _try_ to bring Albuquerque back, you know. She is your llama. She's died before.  
 **mergatrude:** She smells awful at the moment.  
 **me:** Turnbull can steam clean her.  
 **mergatrude:** In the meantime, I get to eat all the cheesecake! \o/  
 **me:** YES, YOU DO!

>  

## Part 10

> **me:** I think people are cheered by the zebra just because it's not More Bad News. *g* Hey, who speaks zebra? Turnbull, Hugh, Callum, or someone I haven't thought of yet. Or you. ;-)  
 **mergatrude:** I don't speak zebra. Maybe Gray speaks zebra, seeing as how he has that nice, stripy scarf?  
 **me:** I don't think I can write Gray. Please don't make me bring Gray into it! Pleeease?  
 **mergatrude:** Sorry! I thought that might be your reaction. Dief would speak zebra, surely?  
 **me:** I don't know if Dief's speaking to anyone right now.  
 **mergatrude:** *pets Dief lots* He's speaking to me, but I don't speak half-wolf. *is useless* Maybe Mark speaks zebra!  
 **me:** Oh god. At least young!Fraser has already gone. I don't want to deal with the complications of overlapping love triangles! But yes. Good thought. *tries to rationalise where Mark could have learned zebra* *figures it doesn't matter that much*

>  **mergatrude:** Maybe Willow slipped in a translation chip? So you can understand the zebra and it can understand you - like a babel fish?  
 **me:** Into where?  
 **mergatrude:** Behind the ear, of course.  
 **me:** Like a hearing aid? Cool!  
 **mergatrude:** Yes. You could run around wearing a cool headset!  
 **me:** I don't think I deserve a headset. *is wearing sackcloth and ashes*  
 **mergatrude:** Awwww! *pets* You know I can't really be mad at you. Your intentions were good.  
 **me:** *showers you with grateful sparkles* So much for our rift, and you bitching about me under flock. Heh.  
 **mergatrude:** Well, you know that wasn't going to happen. We didn't rift very successfully the last time.  
 **me:** I don't remember last time. What happened?  
 **mergatrude:** The F/V rift! When you went over to the other side.  
 **me:** That wasn't a rift! It was barely a ri.  
 **mergatrude:** Exactly! Look who followed along like an eager puppy!  
 **me:** *hearts you SO MUCH*  
 **mergatrude:** I couldn't fake it then, either.  
 **me:** Of course, it was all your fault anyway. You sold me R/R... the rest was inevitable.  
 **mergatrude:** You went F/K/V all on your own, missy! I wasn't around for that one.  
 **me:** I'm pretty sure I wrote Soft Arithmetic for you, after you egged me on. I probably have the emails to prove it. Somewhere.  
 **mergatrude:** I egg you on all the time! Especially when it's a bad idea!  
 **me:** I know! You are a source of much egginess.  
 **mergatrude:** All my life I've been searching for someone as suggestible as you!  >:-)

>  

* * *

Ray followed the sound of a commotion and, threaded through it, Fraser's deep calm reassurances, and found him, the Aussie girls and Turnbull gathered around a zebra, all talking excitedly.

"Hey, when did we get a zebra?" he asked.

Fraser looked over. "Good morning, Ray." He smiled, and Ray went over and planted one on him. Sure, things were bad, what with the other Fraser about to be torn from Vecchio's arms and everything, but even that couldn't ruin the satisfaction of a night of great sex with his one true love.

Just then, Vecchio came tearing up the carpeted hallway toward them, his toweling bathrobe flapping wildly. "Bring him back _now_!" he yelled at China.

China went pale and clutched at the blonde girl's arm. "He's already gone? But we've got a zebra now!"

"I don't care about your fucking zoo," Vecchio told her, frantically. "Bring Fraser back here or I'll—"

"Ray." Fraser gave Ray's shoulder a quick squeeze and went over to talk to Vecchio in a soothing-but-urgent voice. "He's already gone?"

"Yeah. One minute we were—" Vecchio glanced at Fraser's face, then looked away. "—together. And the next minute he was gone."

"You're sure he didn't just go to the can or something?" asked Ray, joining them. He'd been called out to enough missing persons cases that had turned out to be misunderstanding cases that he knew it never hurt to ask the stupid questions.

Except maybe today. Vecchio's fists clenched and he rounded on Ray. "He's gone, okay? He was there, he was— and he's _gone_!" He turned to China. "What do we have to do to bring him back?"

"I don't know." She glanced at the blonde girl, who was investigating the contents of a cardboard carton. "I mean, we'll figure it out. It'll just take a while. Willow said I have to read the manual this time."

"Oh, try this," said the blond girl, holding out a bent piece of plastic.

China took it and studied it. "A translator? Cool!" She hooked it over her ear and went to talk to the zebra. "Can you get the other Fraser back?"

The zebra sneered at her and flicked its ears.

Her face fell. "He can't suck people from other dimensions. He says it's dangerous — it creates rifts and bulges in the space-time continuum, or something."

"I don't _care_ if it's dangerous!" Vecchio stomped over to the zebra and glared at it. "Do it anyway! We survived last time."

It flicked its ears again and took a step back.

"Ask it what it can do," Ray told China, so she went over, edged between the zebra and Vecchio, and conducted a long mostly-silent conversation with the animal.

Meanwhile Vecchio and Fraser were talking in undertones, Vecchio all wound up, and Fraser concerned and supportive. Ray kept an eye on them to make sure it didn't go any further than that. He'd done the right thing before — given Fraser the chance to choose between them — and Fraser had made his choice. Now Ray was going to make sure he stuck to it.

"Are you okay?" asked the blonde girl. She was helping Turnbull hand out cups of coffee.

Ray took one and slurped a mouthful. "Yeah. I mean—" He spat it out on the carpet. "What _is_ this?"

"Tea," she said, going pink. "Herbal tea."

"It's disgusting. Don't you have any coffee?" Ray waved at Turnbull. "Yo, Turnbull. Got any coffee?"

"Yes, sir," said Turnbull, and disappeared into his office.

Ray looked at the blonde girl. "So what's your name, anyway? I can't just keep thinking of you as 'the blonde girl'."

"Mergatrude." She went pink and blinked up at him. "You think of me?"

He took half a step back. She was friends with China, after all, so she was probably dangerous. "Only when I'm, uh, narrating. You know?"

She nodded, and gave him an understanding smile.

"Okay," said China, turning to everyone. "He's told me what he can do. Well, some of it, anyway." Everyone gathered around to listen. "Permanence beams of course, but it's, um, a bit late for that. He can switch out people between dimensions. And oh, he can duplicate Fraser if that's what we want. I mean, properly duplicate him this time."

Fraser and Vecchio went really still and didn't look at each other.

"I thought you said Willow said real duplication would take a huge amount of power," said Mergatrude, frowning.

"Yeah, I asked the zebra about that." China patted the animal's stripy shoulder. "It turns out the Z-scale means it's powered by a ZPM, so it's got enough juice to do that. If we want. Other than that, there's your standard PG-13 shield, yadda yadda."

Fraser turned to Vecchio. "Is that what you want? A copy of me?"

Vecchio stared at him.

Ray stuck his hands in his pockets to keep from interfering. It would be fair, yeah, to let Vecchio have a real up-to-date Fraser if he wanted one. The thought made Ray feel a little weird, like he'd be losing out on _uniqueness_ or something, but that was selfish. And so long as Vecchio and his Fraser left the ship, it wouldn't affect him and Frase in the long run. Probably.

Of course, that assumed that a real duplicate would want to _be_ with Vecchio. Could get awkward as hell if they both wanted to be with Ray.

"No," said Vecchio, breaking into Ray's thoughts. "No, I want my Fraser back. That Fraser, the one that was in my bed half an hour ago. I want _him_. We can't just leave him there alone."

Fraser was mostly facing away from Ray, so Ray couldn't see his expression, but the way Fraser's shoulders slumped, Ray guessed that was a bit of a blow. Vecchio turning him down, basically. Like the earlier model was somehow better. Ray thought about getting into a fight about it, but figured this probably wasn't the time. That was, until Fraser turned to China and the zebra and said,

"All right then." He raised his head bravely. "If you'd be so kind, please exchange me with the other Fraser. The one who was here with Ray Vecchio."

 

## Part 11

Kowalski started forward. "No way, Fraser! No fucking way!"

But Fraser stayed where he was, in front of the zebra. Ray turned to him, looked at him with new eyes. "You'd do that for me, Benny?"

Fraser looked pale but determined. "Not just for you, Ray — for my other self. It's my fault he came here and got a taste of what he could never have in his home universe."

"You couldn't have known it would turn out like this!" Kowalski shouted infuriatedly.

"I did," said Mergatrude. Everyone looked at her, and she shuffled her feet. "Sort of. I mean, it obviously wasn't gonna be good."

"But you didn't stop her." Kowalski pointed an accusing finger at China.

Fraser turned back to Ray. "You deserve to have someone. You deserve to be together."

"And what about me?" Kowalski grabbed Fraser's arm and tried to pull him away. "What do I deserve?"

Fraser looked at him sorrowfully.

Kowalski got right in his face. "You're so willing to throw away your own happiness. What about mine?"

Fraser touched his gritted jaw. "I'm sorry, Ray. This is all my fault. I have to fix it."

"What are you talking about?" Kowalski pointed at China again. "It's all her fault."

"I agreed to the initial duplication," Fraser told him. He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Kowalski's tight, angry lips. Then he positioned himself back in front of the zebra and nodded to China.

Kowalski followed him. "Think about this, Fraser. What are you gonna do in Chicago in the nineties? How are you gonna explain suddenly ageing a decade?"

"I suppose I'll have to—" Fraser rubbed his eyebrow. "—resign the RCMP and return to Canada."

"No." Kowalski's hands bunched into fists. "You can't!"

"Ray, it's all right. I'll survive. And so will you — you'll be fine. You're strong and capable and—"

"You're nuts." Kowalski looked like he wanted to punch Fraser's lights out, or maybe put his fist through a wall. "Please, Frase. Please. Don't do this!"

Fraser gave him an apologetic look, then said to China, "Ready the zebra."

"Nnnnrrrrgh!" Kowalski growled at Fraser then stalked off a few paces, looking desperate and frustrated and furious.

"Maybe we can do a time-share kind of thing," Ray told him. "You get your Fraser for a couple of months, then I get mine."

Kowalski let out a shuddering breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay, that could work. How about it, Fraser?"

But China looked up. "I'm sorry. The zebra says it can't do that. It says it's a _repair_ zebra — it's only here to put things right, and then it has to return to the LLAMAline."

"So convince it," Ray told her fiercely. "Make it stay."

"It doesn't have enough power for that kind of ongoing arrangement anyway," China told him, after a quick consultation with the beast. "Apparently swapping across dimensions takes nearly as much energy as duplication."

Ray looked at Kowalski and saw the last spark of hope wink out. Poor bastard.

"Please proceed," Fraser told China.

"Powering up, now," said China, obediently. The zebra, whose humming had been growing steadily louder, started to grumble.

"Jesus, Fraser, stop! Think about what you're doing before it's too late!" Kowalski was back in the fray. Ray had to give him points for persistence — if banging your head against a red serge wall counted as persistence.

"The hardest thing to do in this world is to live in it," said Fraser.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Kowalski snarled.

"I'm sorry, Ray. It's my duty." He took off his lanyard, coiled it up and handed it to Kowalski. "I'm truly sorry. Find someone else." A stripy beam shone out of the zebra's eyes, like the light from a nuclear-powered film projector. Fraser kissed Kowalski, a real proper kiss this time, then went to stand square in the middle of the beam. "Be happy, Ray."

The beam illuminated Fraser's face, making him look like a saint or a neon advertisement for the RCMP. He stood at attention, and prepared to leave, and Ray's heart nearly burst in his chest.

* * *

The beam brightened and Fraser felt a faint tingling in his extremities.

"Wait," said Ray Vecchio.

"Goodbye, Ray," Fraser told him, refusing to let his emotions get the better of him or deter him from the proper course of action. "Be happy."

"Hey, you just said that to me," said Ray Kowalski, indignantly. "We're not interchangeable like snow mobile parts, you know!"

Irritation pricked at Fraser. "Of course I know that, Ray. I'm well aware of that. In fact, that's been the problem all along!" He wrestled with his temper and managed to get it under control. "But I want both of you to be happy somehow."

"Yeah, well, you're screwing with my odds," said Ray Kowalski. "God, I could kill you right now!"

"I'll be out of your hair soon enough," Fraser told him. As if to emphasize the point, the stripy zebra beam brightened even further.

"Wait!" said Ray Vecchio.

"It's too late," said Fraser. The tingling in his fingers was distinct now. " _Alea jacta est_."

"Benny, I got no idea what you're talking about." Ray seemed agitated. "Step away from the beam."

"It's not too late! You're still here," said Kowalski, reaching into the incandescence and tugged at Fraser, despite his determined resistance.

"I'm going," said Ray Vecchio.

" _What?_ " Ray Kowalski sounded shocked, or perhaps merely confused.

"What was that, Ray?" Glowing motes of dust seemed to dance through Fraser's mind. He could feel the transfer begin to take effect.

"Get out of the beam." Ray Vecchio came at him and forcibly shoved him from the light, sending him sprawling into Ray Kowalski's arms and effectively taking his place. "Swap me instead," he said to China. "It's better for everyone."

The zebra grunted irritably.

"It's already locked onto the other Fraser as its target," China told him worriedly. "The exchange has already started."

"So fix it," said Ray Vecchio.

Fraser blinked dazedly at the spectacle. Ray Vecchio was shimmering, starting to lift off the ground. "Goodbye, Benny," he called, as though from a long way away. "Kowalski, take care of him! Don't let him pull anymore stupid stunts like this."

"Hey, I tried," said Ray Kowalski. There was a loud crack, and Ray Vecchio was gone before he could respond.

The zebra emitted a bone-shakingly deep groan and evacuated its bowels on the deck, and the light intensified so much that Fraser had to shield his eyes for fear of being blinded.

"Oh my god," said Mergatrude, and Fraser tried to look, to see what she was referring to, but his retinas were burned orange. Black spots seemed to pop in and out of existence. Slowly his vision cleared and he saw the silhouette of a figure, standing in front of the zebra. It scanned the assembled group as if it were looking for someone.

"Benny?" it said. "Is that you?"

 

## Part 12

> **mergatrude:** OMG OMG OMG!!!! You brought STRAIGHT!Vecchio to the cruiseliner! *looks around for Stella*  
 **me:** No, it's _young_ straight!Vecchio. And you know his type? Cranky women! And who's been cranky lately? \o/ (I mean, justifiably and everything, but...) *hides inappropriate glee*  
 **mergatrude:** *splutters incoherently.......*

> * * *

The new Vecchio was wearing a loud patterned purple shirt and he had hair. Thinning, but still hair. Ray stared at him and the new Vecchio stared right back, before his gaze slid to the left. "Benny?"

"Yes, Ray," said Fraser, stepping forward, blinking and frowning as if his eyes weren't working right. He seemed freaked out from the near-exchange, like his marbles had got all jumbled up.

Vecchio clapped him on the shoulder. "I thought that was you. Where are we?"

"Uh," said Ray. It was pretty galling to have his rival for Fraser's affections replaced by a guy who didn't even know Ray existed.

"On a cruiseliner," said China.

The zebra was making a high-pitched braying noise.

"And the zebra's pretty pissed off," China added unnecessarily. "That last minute switcheroo kind of took it out of him."

"I'll get a bucket," said Turnbull helpfully, and ducked into his office.

Everyone else stepped away from the zebra shit.

"A cruiseliner, huh?" said Vecchio, rubbing his hands together and looking around. "This is even better than Florida. How much is this costing me?"

"It's free," said Kowalski. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Sure." Vecchio gave him an assessing look. "Raymond Vecchio, Detective. Chicago PD. Are you are?"

"Ray Kowalski, Detective. Ex-Chicago PD." Ray shook his hand. "It's a long story. I'll explain later. I just gotta talk to Fraser for a sec."

"He's all yours," said Vecchio. "Hey, a cruiseliner. Are there any hot women on board?"

Ray dragged Fraser aside. "You were going to leave me, you asshole."

Fraser was still shaky. He took Ray's hand in a tight, desperate grip. "Sometimes abstract responsibilities are easier to bear than personal commitments. I don't— I'm—" He breathed deeply and calmed down, met Ray's gaze. "I was extremely foolish. Can you forgive me?"

Ray melted. Fraser was his own worst enemy — someone had to look out for him, and that someone was going to be Ray. "If anything like that ever happens again, I'm gonna tie you to something."

"There's, ah, no need to wait for that eventuality," Fraser said in his bedroom voice. He leaned in and kissed Ray, and Ray pulled him close and kissed him back, sweet but possessive.

"Oh my God!" said Vecchio. "You're gay! You're all—" He waved his hands at them, like he was trying to indicate kissing without actually saying it.

Ray rolled his eyes. "What gave it away, Sherlock?"

"Listen, you," said Vecchio, defensively. "Fraser was never gay before. I should know — I'm his best friend."

"Actually, Ray, I've always been romantically interested in men." Fraser turned to face Vecchio, but kept his arm around Ray's waist.

Vecchio turned red. "You have?" he squeaked. "What about me? Were you ever interested in me like that?"

Fraser hesitated for a fraction of a second, then said, "No. While I greatly enjoy our friendship, I've never had any interest in taking it any further."

Which Ray figured was only the truth by a tiny technicality — this Fraser had never been interested in this Vecchio because they'd only just met.

"Okay." Vecchio looked relieved. "So what about Stephanie Cabot, that lady with all the horses?"

Fraser blinked. "What about her?"

"Back off, Vecchio," said Ray, impatiently. "Fraser's gay, and he's with me. That's all you need to know."

"What is this," said Vecchio, "BizarroLand?"

"Pretty much," said China. "Come on, we'll buy you a drink and explain everything."

"We will?" said Mergatrude, raising her eyebrows suspiciously.

China nodded and secretly pointed at Fraser and Ray.

Mergatrude sighed. "Fine, but I'm still mad at you."

Vecchio locked onto her like a homing beacon. "Hey, maybe I could buy _you_ a drink."

"Oh god," said Mergatrude, wryly. "/o\"

They left for the cafe in search of soy hot chocolate and cheesecake. Turnbull coughed discreetly, herded the angry zebra into his office and shut the door. Ray turned to Fraser and kissed him again, dirtier, now that they were alone. "Next time we're in New Zealand waters?"

Fraser smiled at him, looking more relaxed that he had since the whole shenanigans started. "I'd be honored."

"I'm not letting you go again," Ray told him.

"Good." Fraser let Ray back him up against the cupboard full of life jackets and kiss him soundly, until they were both breathing hard. Then Ray pulled away a little, keeping his hands on Fraser's hips.

"So, uh, you want me to call you Ben?"

"Not in the least," said Fraser, surprised. "That is, unless you want to?"

Ray grinned. "Nah."

Fraser cleared his throat. "This is extremely— but I'm rather—" He sighed, gently mocking himself, and said, "Would you like to get something to eat? A sandwich, perhaps?"

"Yeah." Ray nuzzled his neck. "But no putty, okay? From now on it's pastrami or pepperoni."

Fraser grinned. "Understood."

"And then bed." Ray tugged Fraser's hips up against his to make his point, and Fraser's eyelids fluttered shut in agreement. Oh yeah.

* * *

Obligatory Sarah Mclachlan soundtrack: [Good Enough](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_AcJ_Z4J1hc)

> _So just let me try and I will be good to you  
Just let me try and I will be there for you  
I'll show you why you're so much more than good enough._

>  

One second Ray was standing in a dazzling beam of stripy zebralight, and the next he was in the dark. It was cold, noisy, and there were blurry green lights above him.

His hands closed on a curved bar. A steering wheel. He was in the Riv.

He slammed on the brakes, checking belatedly for tailgaters in the rearview, and got his bearings. He was only a few blocks from Racine, apparently on his way home. He was still wearing his bathrobe from the cruiseliner. Luckily there wasn't much traffic around. He pulled over to the side of the road and looked in the trunk for something to wear. A passing car blared its horn, and a drunk wandered past and called him Arthur Dent, but no one else gave him any grief.

He found a pair of dirty sweats and a raincoat, and managed to pull them on without breaking any laws. He was still feeling dizzy and disorientated, but he knew what he had to do.

He got back in the Riv and drove to Fraser's apartment block. It was weird to see it there. He'd made the obligatory stop-by when he'd been in Chicago a month ago, and there'd been a fancy new building with boutique stores at street level. He'd bought a tie in one of them. Yet here was the old crumbling brick edifice of yesteryear.

"Get used to it," he told himself, as he locked up the Riv. He gave the car a loving pat and went inside, climbed the stairs that smelled of cabbage and mildew, and knocked on Fraser's door. He didn't wait for an answer, just let himself in, but then stopped on the threshold in surprise.

The apartment was glowing with candlelight. Candles everywhere, on every surface.

Dief barked hello, and Ray looked over and saw him and Fraser. Fraser was standing by the window, his arms wrapped around himself, his eyes shining with tears.

"Benny." Ray kicked the door shut without looking and went over to him, wrapped Fraser up in his arms and the stupid raincoat. "It's okay — I'm here."

Fraser seemed to be trying to talk but he couldn't get any words out. He clung to Ray like he was a lifeline. "Ray?"

"The one and only." Ray cupped his face and smiled at him. "You didn't think I was just gonna let you get away, did you?"

Dief pawed Ray's knee and went to curl up in the corner, apparently happy to leave Fraser in Ray's care.

Fraser leaned his forehead against Ray's, and when he spoke, his words were puffs of air on Ray's face. "You said I'd find someone else."

"I changed my mind." Ray let his hand slide down Fraser's side to his hip, then leaned back so he could pay attention to what was happening on Fraser's face.

Fraser's eyebrows were raised.

"You would have," Ray told him, and kissed him softly. "I'm not here for your sake, Benny. I'm here for mine." He pulled him close and held him until the raincoat drove him crazy and he had to break away to shrug out of it.

Fraser's eyes widened at his bare chest, and he led Ray over to the bed. They lay down together, stroking and kissing and holding each other tight. It felt precious, somehow new and dependable at the same time. Ray knew he'd made the right choice.

Fraser touched the corner of Ray's eye, tracing the wrinkles probably. "We can't stay here," he said. "Where will we go?"

Ray opened his mouth to say _Canada_ , but instead he heard himself say, "New York."

"New York?" Fraser tilted his head enquiringly.

A mantra eeled through Ray's thoughts: _save the cheerleader, save the world._ "Yeah," he told Fraser. "We're going to stop a terrorist attack and prevent a war."

"That sounds like a worthwhile goal." Fraser sounded ready and willing to follow Ray wherever he wanted to go. The thought filled Ray with tenderness. "What about your family?" Fraser asked.

"I know the future, Benny," Ray told him. "I can provide for them." He knew the world series winners for the next twelve years.

Fraser sat up so he could pull his henley over his head. "All right," he said, smoothing his hand over Ray's ribs, and that was it. The decision was made: they were going to save the world. "It's November 6th, 1994. Is there anything urgent we need to deal with tonight?"

"Yeah, there is," said Ray, huskily, and drew him back down and showed him.

 

## Part 13

Fraser stood on deck watching moonlight sparkles dance on the waves. He was happy. No, more than that — he was content, and it was all the more precious for being hard won. His body was sated and pleasantly relaxed, and his heart was at peace for the first time in days.

"Still mooning over that other Yank, son?" a familiar voice asked from behind him. "No point jumping overboard, you know. A dunk in icy cold water rarely solves anything. At least, not when it comes to matters of the heart."

Fraser refused to turn around. "No, Dad, quite the reverse. It seems I've finally laid _one_ of my ghosts to rest." He stole a sideways glance, but his father was as oblivious as ever. "I was counting my blessings, actually."

"Good thing," said his father. "I don't think there's much point trying your luck with that other young larrikin." He jerked his head in the direction of the television lounge where the newly arrived Ray Vecchio was watching baseball with a few of the other passengers.

"I wasn't planning to," Fraser told his father.

His father shook his head. "You know, if I were you I'd confiscate that dratted llama. Those girls are troublemakers at best, and besides, it interferes with my wireless reception. The wretched beast reminds me of Kangaroo Joe's pet elk, Millie, who went around the entire town of Inuvik one summer and cleaned the carrots out of all the gardens."

"The llama's already been disabled," Fraser reminded him. "Its head exploded."

"You say that, son, but where there's a zebra, there's a repair kit. Every greenhorn knows that."

Fraser sighed. The llama had been incontrovertibly destroyed. His father was simply borrowing trouble. "Thanks, Dad. I'll take that under advisement."

His father harrumphed and stood beside him at the railing. "In the meantime, what are you going to do about my wireless reception?"

"Has it occurred to you that you might be receiving static because you're dead and your radio doesn't exist?" Fraser rubbed his eyebrow and wished his father would go and haunt someone else for a while. Dief, for instance. Dief was always available for a brief visitation, especially if the visitor knew the whereabouts of certain foodstuffs.

His father clapped him on the shoulder with a ghostly hand. "Buck up, son. Every silver lining has its cloud."

"Don't you mean—?"

"That too, that too." Bob nodded sagely. "There's no point moping about. You've had a narrow escape, no question about it. Why, just think — you nearly ended up back in the nineties, in that horrible damp apartment."

"I am not moping," Fraser told him, exasperated. "I'm feeling remarkably trouble-free, as it happens."

"I'm glad to hear it," said a warm voice that was definitely not his father's, and Fraser turned to see Ray smiling at him. He was wearing a soft, worn t-shirt and old, ill-fitting jeans, and he looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

Fraser pulled him close and kissed him, aware he was clinging in a way that ill-befitted an RCMP officer, but unable to help himself.

Ray returned the kiss, then grinned at him knowingly. "The old man giving you trouble?"

"Talking to him is like— I don't know what it's like, but it's—" Fraser inhaled deeply.

Ray leaned his forehead against Fraser's temple. "It makes you nuts."

"Yes. Infuriating."

"Bet I can make you forget all about him." Ray held up a coil of soft-looking rope and leered suggestively. "Want to help me practice my knots?"

Fraser felt a thrill in the pit of his stomach, and pulled him closer. "Forget about what?"

"That's my man." There was laughter in Ray's voice. He nibbled on Fraser's earlobe, making him gasp.

"Yes," said Fraser, breathlessly, "I am."

* * *

> **me:** If it were a choice between repairing the llama and swapping her out with an AU Albuquerque, which would you prefer?  
 **mergatrude:** I... I don't know! I think I need a break from llamas.  
 **me:** In that case, the repair option might be good, because it's going to take me a while...  
 **mergatrude:** Can I have a KITTY!!!!?  
 **me:** Two little black kitties! Possibly a little cloying for the cruiseliner?  
 **mergatrude:** How about a grown up cat, who's been living in the library all this time?  
 **me:** HOW ABOUT ALBUQUERQUE!?! Are you giving up on her?! *shocked*  
 **mergatrude:** I don't know. She got delusions of grandeur. *is broken*  
 **me:** Heh. I thought that was me. (You are NOT ALLOWED to trade me in for kittens!)  
 **mergatrude:** Not even cute fluffy ones? I like tortoiseshells.  
 **me:** But we need some kind of magical force to keep the cruiseliner in one piece. And I don't think cats could do it.  
 **mergatrude:** You don't? You're probably right - they don't care enough. *ponders animals who might be interested in magically assisting us*  
 **me:** How about a donkey? Or a caribou.  
 **mergatrude:** I don't think a donkey could manage it. How about a tapir?  
 **me:** *is still stuck on you having given up on llamas* o.O  
 **mergatrude:** They're just everywhere, these days.  
 **me:** *looks dubious*  
 **mergatrude:** How about an alpaca, as a temporary replacement? Smaller, less likely to do damage? A vicuna? Because we don't deserve a fully-fledged llama yet. We have to earn her back.  
 **me:** Well, that's why I thought the repair thing might be good. (Plus if she's out of commission for a while, that would mean F/K could do the dirty before she phutzed back into action.)  
 **mergatrude:** She's been really, really wrecked. It's going to take a while.  
 **me:** We need an interim measure. Okay. Hmmm...  
 **mergatrude:** And maybe the vicuna doesn't have the PG-13 field.  
 **me:** You're determined to branch out, aren't you! We could have bunnies everywhere!  
 **mergatrude:** Giant Dutch Rabbits!  
 **me:** YOU ARE CRAZED! I'm trying to get to a happy ending, and you're trying to make it Christmas!  
 **mergatrude:** We would have reindeer! Is this the Ark?  
 **me:** *criez* You can have bunnies. And they'll get everywhere and be really annoying. ;-P  
 **mergatrude:** How about a lioness?  
 **me:** A lioness would eat us all.  
 **mergatrude:** I know, I know! *jumps up and down* A TIGER!!! Tigers Are Cool!!!  
 **me:** *thwaps you with a newspaper* STOP EET!  
 **mergatrude:** I caaaaaaan't!!! You better take me to the kitchen and feed me patisseries!  
 **me:** You just want to perv at the pastry chef! Shameless hussy!  
 **mergatrude:** \o/

>  

* * *

I sleep late the next day and then meet you for brunch. Vecchio is at the next table, playing lunchtime poker with Callum, Hugh and Mark Smithbauer.

"So, where do you go to meet women around here?" we overhear Vecchio asking.

Callum and Hugh grin at each other, shamelessly, but Mark answers. "You know, there aren't many women onboard. It's weird, eh?"

Vecchio rolls his eyes. "Aw, you're another Canadian. What's with this place?"

"We're all Canucks here," Callum tells him. "Royal flush." He pulls the chips towards him.

Vecchio sighs exaggeratedly, shuffles and deals. "Come on, there's got to be _some_ hot women around." Then he spies us and waves at you, and his next remark is in an undertone we can't hear but it makes the others look at you speculatively.

You look daggers at me, so I distract you by pointing out the chopper flying overhead, leaving the ship.

"Oh," you say, diverted. "I heard Turnbull arranging it. It's for Fraser and Kowalski."

"They're leaving the ship?" I say, panicked. Did I break things _that_ badly? Will our refuge _never_ be the same again?

"They're going to Wellington to get hitched." You look thoughtful. "I don't know if they're coming back."

"They'll be back," I say, with more confidence than I'm feeling. "I mean, what better place for a honeymoon than here?"

You shake your head at me, and scan the menu for likely brunch options. After we've ordered, you add, "At least Dief went with them."

"Oh good. They've made up." That's a huge relief. "I'm sure they'll be back." I sip my apple juice and look at you. Your sunglasses hide your eyes, so it's hard to tell how pissed off you still are. I guess the only way to find out for sure is to ask. But before I can, you reach into your bag and pull out a LLAMAline catalogue, and start browsing through their extensive range of animatronic pets.

My heart sinks. "Are you okay?"

"I'm broken," you say.

"I know. I'm sorry." I fiddle with the straw in my drink. "I guess I meant, are _we_ okay?"

You look up from a page of tapirs and say, "I suppose. Just don't do it again!"

"I won't! I promise." I pick up the large cardboard box next to me and put it on a spare chair so I can look through it. "Anyway, I'm going to be busy for a while." The carton's full of llama parts, spare fur, specialized tools, and a thousand-page repair manual. I look up and catch you peeking. "I know you weren't sure about fixing Albuquerque," I say, "but, um, the zebra kind of shamed me into it. Apparently it would make me wildly irresponsible if I didn't try."

You smile dryly.

"And I have to do it by the book this time." I look at the dense manual with some desperation.

"She— her carcass smells terrible." You're trying to sound like you don't care. You turn a page in your catalogue. "Oh, we could get giant bunnies."

"I'll ask Turnbull to steam clean her. And we can't get bunnies! I already have too many bunnies — metaphorically, anyway." I scratch my neck and drink some more of my juice. "So — do you mind? If I try to fix her?"

You stare at the catalogue page, but I don't think you're seeing it. I wait. Eventually you say in a very small voice, "It's not the same without her."

"I'll make her as good as new," I vow. "I mean, I'll try to. You won't know the difference." I open the manual at page 1 and start to read the convoluted preface, and you continue to flick half-heartedly through the LLAMAline catalogue.

When our food turns up, we accept it gratefully and eat in silence, each preoccupied with our own reading matter. Things aren't quite right, but they're okay. I figure we'll get back to normal one day soon. It just takes time.


End file.
